Utopia
by DuckofIndeed
Summary: Fueled by the desire to do what's right or the thirst for revenge, heroes and villains are forced to team up again to fight a new evil with a goal more sinister than any before them.
1. Chapter 1: The Doctor's Not In

Hello and thank you for deciding to give this story a chance. I ran out of short story ideas and decided this would be a good time to start a new novel now that my "Jak and Daxter" one's over. I must admit, I am not super good at writing sci-fi, but I got this neat idea that I simply couldn't pass up, and I just hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it.

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><p><strong>Utopia<strong>

**Chapter 1: Looks Like the Doctor's Not In**

There were few things quite as unsettling as docking at a dead space station.

Or finding a spider in your shirt when you're in the middle of putting it on. That's pretty bad, too.

Ratchet and Clank had just caught wind of a strange occurrence over in a sector of the Solana Galaxy so distant, no one had even bothered to name it, when a dead surveillance satellite was found drifting off course, and when the authorities traced its programmed route as they tried to locate just where it had been rendered in such a state, what did they find but an unidentified space station smack dab in the middle of nowhere, rumored to be the newest base of none other than the duo's greatest nemesis, the robotic supervillain Dr. Nefarious….

Well, rumored was a bit of an understatement, considering it was designed to be the spitting image of the sinister scientist, green, glass dome and all, in much the same manner as his previous space station back when he was bent on rewriting history for his own twisted ends. While it was a good deal smaller (the doctor must be rather strapped for bolts these days), there was no doubt as to the station's owner. Unless he had a rather big fan, but considering the scientist's penchant for betraying anyone he had ever sided with, that was rather unlikely. And for the first time in all their many years of infiltrating enemy territory, they were met with a rather quiet reception.

Well, none actually.

In fact, the Lombax and his small robot companion entered the space station with no more commotion than a wave and a hello from one of the Galactic Rangers that had been sent to investigate the disturbance, along with an admittance that if anything out of the ordinary occurred here, they'd leave it up to the two of them to deal with the situation. And while it wasn't an entirely unexpected statement, it was just a bit disturbing that it was these very robots the residents of the Solana Galaxy relied on to fight wars in their stead. With that attitude, it was no wonder the duo was so blasted busy all the time.

As they strode down the maze of hallways that greeted them beyond the hangar doors, they found the place to be black as space, the only working lights to be those the Rangers had brought along, and while these proved to be more or less sufficient, it didn't prevent the robots from quivering at the slightest movement of their own shadows in the twilight, and Ratchet rolled his eyes from inside the space suit he continued to wear even inside, as Aphelion had detected a depleting supply of oxygen now that the station's life support systems were as defunct as the lights (the Lombax was pretty certain it had never occurred to Nefarious that a space station comprised entirely of robots had little need of life support).

As the two of them strode by yet another Galactic Ranger they had caught who was busy doing next to nothing, save for loitering and looking over his shoulder for whatever he suspected might sneak up on him from out of the gloom, it became more than apparent that the station had fallen victim to something much worse than a mere power outage as they passed countless robots lying motionless on the ground. It was clear they were Nefarious' troopers, based on the green domes that comprised the upper half of their frames, and it was equally as clear that they, just like everything else, were completely and utterly dead.

"I must admit, it's pretty spooky in here." Ratchet stopped to nudge at the nearest robot with the end of one boot. "I wonder what happened." He crouched down to tap at the glass of its head with a gloved finger, this act also failing to return any life to its circuits. Not that he would want to. Nefarious had quite the habit of giving his troops rotating saws for arms, along with any other cruel instruments that were well-suited to slicing and dicing "squishies". As if trying to open a pickle jar wasn't difficult enough…

"Well, based on the lack of any _physical_ damage, I would have to conclude that someone set off an EMP device in the vicinity," Clank said with a hand to his metal chin. "These poor robots. They did not stand a chance."

The Lombax stood and attempted to scratch the back of his head before he remembered he was still wearing a helmet. "An EMP? Could it—"

"Yes, an electromagnetic—"

"I _know_ what an EMP is. But, could it really do this to an entire space station?" Ratchet gestured about at the strangely serene massacre as he turned to continue his patrol down the hallway, though he highly doubted he would find anything besides what they had already seen.

His robotic companion made to follow. "Why, yes, quite easily, actually. You see…"

"It's horrible! I can't stand another second in this place! I think I'm gonna throw up!"

They jumped out of the way as a Galactic Ranger came screaming around the corner in front of them and ran by with his hands clutched to his head, and he continued to shriek in terror long after he was lost to sight in the blackness where the lights didn't reach, which only served to give him a whole new thing to scream over.

"What's _his_ problem?" Ratchet asked as he jabbed his thumb in the direction the frightened robot had gone.

"I know they may look like mere pieces of metal to you, Ratchet, but imagine if these hallways were littered with the bodies of _organic_ life forms."

"Yeah, I guess I see the point. Though, no offense, but I don't really _care_ what happened to a bunch of Nefarious' lackeys. I just want to know who did this and where _Nefarious_ is." The Lombax peered off into one dark hallway none of the Rangers had yet to venture down. And likely never would, though due to fear or sheer laziness, it mattered little. "Come on, Clank, let's get to the bottom of this. We won't find anything if we stick around _these_ numbskulls."

It wasn't long before the duo began to venture into uncharted territory using a cloud of glowing nanorobots, courtesy of Big Al, to light the way, but everywhere they went through the cold, dead hallways of the silent space station, they found nothing but robots reduced to scrap metal, and Ratchet fiddled with the controls of various consoles they passed along the way, only to find they had fared no better.

"They're all completely fried," Ratchet said before he stopped in front of an elevator and pressed the button nearby with rather low expectations of what he thought might happen. And he was not disappointed.

"Darn it! How are we going to find anything in this place if we're stuck on one level?"

"Ratchet," Clank began from his place as Ratchet's backpack, a position he so often took up when they were in the middle of exploration or any other situations with the potential for peril. Even if today didn't seem to be one of them. "I really do not think it would be safe to attempt any form of ascent using the elevator at a time like this, even if it _was_ still functioning. I suggest we take the stairs."

"There _are_ no stairs! Look, I have an idea." The Lombax began to pry at the elevator doors with all his might, but when this produced no results, he took out his blaster. "There's nothing a little firepower can't fix." After a few well-aimed shots, he tried the doors again, this time with more success when he was able to force his fingers in the gap his pistol had made. Once he had succeeded in pushing the doors apart just a bit further, he took up his trusty wrench, and the doors came open enough that he was able to squeeze through, but no sooner had he done so that he yelped at the abyss that opened up at his feet.

"Ratchet! What's going on?"

"Nothing! Everything's perfectly— I don't see any sign of the elevator, though…."

The Lombax's gaze jerked upward when he heard a screech from above, and he jumped back just in time as the elevator came screaming past with the sound of metal scraping on metal, and he stepped forward again to stare wide-eyed down at the light given off an increasing distance below by a corona of sparks.

"Well, _that_ was close."

"This would _not_ have happened if we had taken the stairs."

Ratchet rolled his eyes before he began to tackle the elevator shaft with the help of his Gravity Boots, each step producing a metallic clang that rang out before and below him, and while he had been defying gravity in such a manner for years, walking vertically up a deep and dimly lit elevator shaft did have a way of making one rather queasy, and he was just grateful when he was given the chance to return to more horizontal footing upon his arrival at the highest level the elevator shaft would take him.

His relief was short-lived, however, as the fur on the back of his neck began to prick up at how completely silent it was without even the chatter of the Galactic Rangers to mask the deathly lull, and as he started forward, he found himself flinching at the sound of his own footsteps as they echoed off ahead of him down a hallway that seemed in the darkness like it could stretch on without end, and he was tempted to take out his blaster (or the RYNO, for that matter), even when, just like the hallways prior, there was no sign of movement of any kind.

"You don't think Nefarious accidentally did this to himself, do you, Clank?" Ratchet said as he picked his way among the scattered bodies of robots that littered the floor.

"I do not think so. Even _he_ would not have been so careless."

"Then, who do you think did it? Another enemy of his, perhaps?"

They wandered about for what felt like a good hour, and just when Ratchet was considering giving up and hightailing it out of here, he came upon a door that looked particularly promising, based on the emblem revealed upon its surface as the cloud of nanorobots circled slowly about him, and he worked on prying it open in the same manner as with the elevator, only to obliterate it with the Negotiator when his patience wore thin.

"Was that really necessary?" the robot asked.

"You bet it was."

The Lombax strode through the now smoldering doorway, his gun still smoking and held at the ready, and he stopped within a room that was not at all what he was expecting. This was Nefarious' office, sure enough, based on the furniture (and did the supervillain really have…an action figure of himself displayed on his desk?), but everything was…completely fine.

In fact, there appeared to be no sign of a struggle whatsoever. No toppled furniture. No sign of missed gunshots. Nothing. It was as if the scientist had simply left and intended to return later, if it wasn't for the obvious fact that something _had_ happened here, or else the space station wouldn't be without power and every single trooper littering the hallways indisposed. And finding the room without one object out of place was quite possibly the most chilling thing of all.

It was bad enough that someone had so easily managed to sneak this far into what should have been one of the most heavily guarded places in the galaxy, but for them to have done so without any retaliation from the supervillain… Dr. Nefarious may have been a lunatic, but he was not so easily tricked, and he never went down easily. And the Lombax would know. But, what did he expect from someone who could shoot lasers from their hands?

Clank dropped to the floor to make a closer inspection of the large room, in case there was something he was missing, while the Lombax made a slow sweep of his own to inspect the expansive aquarium built into the back wall and several vicious-looking robotic fish that were now lying motionless on the bottom.

"Find anything—" he began as he moved down the wall with a hand running over the glass, but his words and his stride were cut short when his gaze caught something on the floor.

Blood.

"What is it, Ratchet?" Clank asked as he joined him, but his question was answered when he, too, looked down at what had caught his companion's attention. "I see. It would appear…an organic is responsible for this."

"Yeah, but that still doesn't tell us who. Did you find anything else, Clank?"

The little robot shook his head. "No. All I can conclude from this is that either Dr. Nefarious succumbed to the same fate as all the other robots under his command or he is not here to begin with."

"You're right." Ratchet's eyes fell to the drops of crimson that speckled the floor one, final time. "Let's get out of here."

The two returned at once to Aphelion, passing countless Galactic Rangers on their way back that had still yet to muster up the courage to venture beyond the first few dozen yards beyond the hangar, and they took off in the direction of Kerwan, both remaining silent as they pondered over what they had found, or what was more unsettling, the fact that they _hadn't_ found anything, the existence of the one who had turned the space station into a drifting tomb an impossible enigma when they had left behind no sign they had ever been.

They travelled for an hour or a few through the endless void that was space, with nothing but the countless speckle of stars and the murky depths of nebulae for company. It was a place that felt so empty, and yet which contained so much, it was impossible to fathom. This far out in the middle of nowhere, not even a ship passed by, and there were times, more than Ratchet cared to count, that he worried the universe as he knew it had ended during their time out in all this nothing, and no matter how much they wandered, they would never again find another soul. He shivered. Better not think about it.

The Lombax began to fidget as the silence started to remind him a bit too much of the place they had just left behind, and he reached for the radio, only to withdraw his hand at the crackling of static, and while at this instant he took back his wish for noise, it was a wish that came too late when a familiar voice came in over the radio.

"How's it goin', cadets?" said the voice of none other than Captain Copernicus Qwark himself. "Did you find anything interesting in my…" His voice lowered to a tone he surely found far more dramatic. "My nemesis's evil lair? I mean, my…neme-nemesiseses…my…"

"No, we didn't, Qwark," Ratchet said, and he attempted to turn the radio off, but was prevented from doing so by a glare from Clank.

"It appears an EMP was used to disable all the electronic devices in Dr. Nefarious' space station," the robot said.

"A _what_?"

"An EMP. You see, it is an electromagnetic pulse used to interfere with and disable—"

"Ratchet, he's starting the nerd-talk again…."

The Lombax rolled his eyes. "What Clank's trying to say is Nefarious' space station is toast. And no, we didn't find any sign of your 'evil nemesis'. Something happened there, sure enough, but we don't know anymore now than we did before we got there." _Less_, actually.

"Phew, that's good to hear," the superhero said. "I have this appointment for a facial on- Ahem, what I meant to say was, I'm just glad to hear that the two of you are safe—"

"Sure you are."

"—and I can always just track that villain down another time and give him a taste of my two good friends here, the Long Arm of the Law and Hey, Good Lookin'."

Ratchet frowned. "And _who_ exactly are they?"

"My fists, who else? Once my appointment's over, of course. But, the point is…I'm just glad—"

"Lombax distress signal detected."

"—no one got hurt. I've always believed—"

"Hold on a second, Qwark. Aphelion's found something—"

"—that violence wasn't _really_ the answer. I mean, okay, yeah, killing people _is_ a pretty good way to—"

"Qwark, I gotta go." Ratchet turned off the radio. "Aphelion, what is it?"

"Lombax distress signal detected. Point of origin is on an unknown planet .5 parsecs away."

"_Lombax_? Did she…Clank, did she say—"

"Yes, that _is_ what she said, but that does not mean—"

"Well, what's it _say_ exactly, Aphelion? There _has_ to be more to it than that."

"The message is in Lombax and encrypted with a 2048-bit LKI encryption key and can only be deciphered by a device of Lombax origin."

Ratchet huffed. "Well, that's _perfect_. Decipher it, then!"

"The message reads as—" Aphelion began, but her voice became lost in a jumble of static.

"There appears to be some kind of interfe—" Clank said.

"I know! Clank, do something!"

"And what do you suggest I do? It would be most effective to simply try again once we are out of range of whatever is causing the disturbance."

"Yes, but then we might end up out of range of the distress signal! _You're_ smart! Figure it out!" The Lombax struck the ship's console with his fist, which only succeeded in jumbling the message further.

"You remember what Captain Qwark said. Violence is not the answer." The robot giggled that distinctive laugh he so commonly practiced, but he received only a snarl in response.

"Clank!"

"My apologies." Clank turned a knob on the console this way and that, Aphelion's words coming through in varying levels of clarity. "There, that seems to be better. On second thought—"

"—a very special day t'day-hic-'cuz t'day's our very own Cap'n Slag's birfday! Why-hic-Cap'n, ya 'ardly look a day-hic-o'er t'ree!"

"Aw, shucks, Pete!"

"Excuse me. Let me try something else," Clank said, and he turned another knob, but only succeeded in raising the volume.

"—'e's a pretty neat fella, fer 'e's a pretty neat fella, fer 'e's a-hic—"

"Pete, what I saying about singin'! There'll be no singin' t'day! D'ya hear me! Be quiet!"

A gasp was heard through the radio, and Ratchet's hands tightened their grip on the yoke.

"But, Cap'n, pirates _always_ sing catchy ditties!"

"I know, but I jus' don't feel like it t'day, Pete!"

"Say it-hic-ain't so, Cap'n! Say it—"

"It's so, Pete! It's so!"

Further fidgeting with the controls produced little more than static again, only to clear up just in time to catch the sound of sobbing.

"Ah, come now, Pete. Don't start that. Y'know what 'appens when ya cry. You start cryin', then I start tearin' up, an' then b'fore ya know it, we'll all be blubberin' like sissy, little landlubbers, and who's gonna take a buncha weepy pirates seriously?"

"I dunno-hic-Cap'n. I jus' don' know."

"Clank, please, make it stop!"

This time, the robot's efforts met with more success, and Aphelion's voice returned to them mid-sentence. "—send help imm—"

"It seems we must have cleared the—" Clank began, only to be hushed by his companion.

"Wait a minute," Ratchet said. "Start from the beginning."

"The message reads as follows: 'Help. I am stranded and definitely not armed. Please send help immediately. I am in mortal peril. Especially since I'm not armed.' End message."

The Lombax frowned. "Huh, well, that was a little…"

"Suspicious, yes. Ratchet, I really must insist we exercise caution in this matter. I do not have a good feeling about this."

"Yeah, but…it's a Lombax, Clank. Who else could've sent it?"

"Actually…"

"I know the message was a little sketchy, but if there's even a remote possibility another Lombax is out there, I have to find them." Ratchet's face cracked in a sly grin as he nudged the little robot with one elbow. "But, hey, look on the bright side. They _said_ they weren't armed."

Clank frowned. "You _do_ realize that whenever _I_ am this trusting, it often does not end well and results in you becoming cross with me."

"Yeah, I know. Let's get going, Clank." With that, Ratchet activated the ship's boosters and sped off for the source of the mysterious signal.

"By the way, we are low on fuel, and using the boosters will surely cause us to run out twice as quickly."

"Just stop talking, Clank."

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><p>Did you know they sell Dr. Nefarious action figures? I have one. It's awesome. And I obviously have no idea how space travel works, considering I haven't exactly had a lot of experience in the area. I just went on the Internet and found some words, and I used them. I used those words.<p>

Anyway, this chapter turned out pretty good after some serious editing. I hope you are enjoying my story so far, though I may not be able to keep up weekly updates as I've done with past stories. Sorry, my darlings. I promise I won't make you wait too long. But while you wait, why don't you review? Hey, what a great idea!


	2. Chapter 2: A Bad Case of Gas

First of all, apologies for this chapter taking so long. I used to update weekly, but alas, life is not as kind as it once was. Well, this story currently breaks off into an abyss of uncertainty at chapter 10, and I'm working very hard on deciding where the plot goes from there, thus the slowness. But all the while, I'm getting ideas for the future plot that is far more interesting than I ever expected would come from my miniscule brain, so at least you guys have something I hope you'll agree will be worth waiting for. Ahem, but no more ranting, on to chapter 2, which has major changes to fit in with the new and improved plot. Enjoy, squishies.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: A Bad Case of Gas<strong>

The signal grew stronger with each passing hour as they sped ever deeper into regions of space never before travelled by the pair, the blackness broken only by a brilliant cloud of blue gas an untold distance away to their left that looked so peaceful and calm, and yet which Ratchet knew was, in actuality, the raging sea of a gaseous nebula, the explosive birthplace of stars whose size could scarcely be fathomed, demonstrating so perfectly the dual nature of space, the peace and the silence that belied its true nature, of a place as cold as absolute zero and so inhospitable, no organic could survive for more than a fraction of a second without the proper protection (except for Captain Qwark, according to…Captain Qwark, whose claim to have survived out in space for six days he still doggedly defended, as was his belief that his abs really were made of steel).

It was this apparent, but dreadfully misleading, emptiness of space that allowed Ratchet to direct Aphelion onward with a velocity that would (and had) gotten him traffic tickets if practiced in Metropolis (and the officer didn't seem to understand that the line surely gathering for the release of the VG 11000 game system wasn't getting any shorter the more he attempted to explain to the young Lombax that just because he had saved the lives of trillions, he still had to obey the laws of the hover-lanes).

And just as Clank had insisted he come to a _full_ stop at any stop sign that day, with an apparent lack of comprehension for what the words "shut up" or "I'm really not interested in the statistics of traffic accidents on Kerwan right now" meant, so, too, did the diminutive robot display a growing conviction that they slow down and think the matter of their impromptu rescue over. Of course, Ratchet being Ratchet, "slowing down" or "thinking" were the farthest things from his mind at the moment when there was potentially a Lombax in danger out there on some uncharted planet. When you had found and lost your own kind as many times as he had, you had a right to be capricious every once in a while.

Believe it or not, essentially being the last of one's kind sort of did that to a person.

And so, despite his friend's frequent warnings, he never once hesitated, and he never once slowed down. Not until their fuel ran out, of course.

Ratchet's jaw tightened as Aphelion began to slow, and he hoped and pleaded that Clank would somehow not notice that the stars were no longer speeding by the windscreen in streaks of white, but of course, nothing passed the little robot's notice, who began to look around in alarm before his gaze settled on his friend, a frown apparent on his metal face.

"Ratchet, what have I been telling you?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know!" A quick peek at the fuel gauge told the Lombax just how accurate his friend's words had been, while a warning from Aphelion only confirmed more of the same.

"What are we—"

"I got it under control. Just let me handle this. We still have enough fuel to go just a little further."

And indeed they did, allowing Ratchet to pilot the ship forward at a far slower speed than before, though his eyes began to fixate on the fuel gauge more and more often as the minutes ticked by, until those minutes turned into one of the most excruciating half hours of his life, each stutter in the ship's movement causing him to tense as he awaited what was surely coming. And then, it happened, and Aphelion's boosters shuttered once more before giving out completely, and they continued to drift forward thanks to nothing more than their earlier velocity.

Ratchet pushed and pulled the yoke this way and that with the precision of a surgeon, as if _it_ was actually at fault for the engine's failure, and Clank merely watched intently with half-hidden optics, as if the observation of his friend's efforts would help them to succeed. Once a few more hopeful glances at Aphelion's dashboard confirmed that the fuel level had not miraculously replenished itself, the Lombax released a held breath and leaned back in defeat as his hands dropped to his lap. "Well, Clank."

His robotic companion blinked at him. "Yes, Ratchet?"

"You were right."

Clank reclined back in his own seat and laced his fingers together. "I would not have said what I did had I not been."

Ratchet scanned the horizon for any sign of rescue, another ship perhaps, or better yet, a nearby planet, but all he could find was that distant, blue nebula, the sight leaving him in awe just as much as it chilled him to the bone. "You know, I think that's the closest to gloating you've ever come."

"I suppose it is. I think some of your confidence is starting to rub off on me."

"Yeah," Ratchet wrapped his arms tight about himself and shivered as his large ears began to droop. "'Confidence' is a nice word for it."

The robot chuckled, while the Lombax attempted some of the same, though it contained little humor and provided only an ounce more of comfort. (Dr. Nefarious and Lawrence were actually quite fortunate, really, that they were only stuck drifting about the universe on an asteroid for a few years. And while _Clank_ could certainly survive such a fate, Ratchet didn't think he'd have the same luck.) First rule of intergalactic space travel, pay attention to fuel. And don't teleport yourself to an asteroid with no way of getting back. Though, that second one was a no-brainer.

"I suppose you do not want to listen to the radio after what happened last time."

"Right again."

Ratchet didn't know how long they floated out there, with time inching by even slower than they were and even the blue nebula becoming lost to sight what felt like hours ago, but they managed to keep themselves occupied by pointing out constellations and retelling stories of earlier days, after Clank's idea of calculating square roots in sequence met with little enthusiasm, despite the little robot's best efforts to convince him of the merits of such an endeavor. It wasn't long after they recalled, with no shortage of horror, the time they had to rescue Captain Qwark from a rogue crotchitizer that the radio crackled to life, and the Lombax started from his seat at the addition of a third voice in the cramped cockpit.

"Looks like you've run into a bit of trouble, outsider," said a voice so garbled, he would have thought it was a robot with a bad voice modulator if he hadn't heard something like it before.

Ratchet lunged for the radio, his relief doing a fine job of making him forget that such proximity wasn't necessary. "Yes, we…we sort of…ran out of fuel. Think you can help?"

"Sure thing," the Vullard said. "We just so happen to run a fueling depot in your vicinity. We'll pull you in with our ship tether."

"Hey, thanks a lot!"

"No problem, outsider."

With that, the radio clicked off, and Clank looked over at his friend with raised eyebrows. Had he possessed any, of course. "Well, that was convenient."

The Lombax folded his arms behind his head and leaned back as the ship was overtaken by a blue glow, and he felt Aphelion changing direction. "You see, Clank, I always tell you things will turn out okay in the end."

"Yes, but I do not recall you saying that _this_ time."

Ratchet grinned. "Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly feeling that way a few minutes ago."

Their smooth descent was broken as Aphelion was set down less than gently upon a small asteroid they could have too easily passed had the Vullard not spotted them when he did, and the two jumped out of the ship to meet their rescuer as he shuffled towards them, and it was a wonder he could move at all with the weight of the scrap metal he had strapped to his back, so much so that he was hunched nearly to the ground.

"In addition to the price for fueling your ship," the Vullard said, "there will also be a small fee for having to tow you in. Hope you don't mind."

"Hey, but we were in trouble out there!" Ratchet said.

"Sorry, outsider," the Vullard said with a nonchalant wave of one hand. "We have to make a living somehow. We rarely ever get customers this far out." With clearly no intention of changing his mind, he continued past them on his way to their ship and waved behind him for his comrade to bring over a long hose.

"Well, I guess we don't have much choice," the Lombax said with a sigh as he headed for the small structure a short distance away.

"I suppose they _did_ save our lives."

"Yeah, but I didn't think they were gonna charge us for it!"

"I am just grateful they found us when they did. I have heard there are a good number of black holes in this sector."

"Clank, don't tell me stuff like that."

"My apologies."

They watched Aphelion from the discomfort of two metal stools, which were a bit on the short side to accommodate the Vullards' differing proportions, and Ratchet rested his cheek on his fist as he struck the counter behind him with the heel of his foot.

"You think we'll find anything, Clank? When we reach the source of that distress signal, I mean."

The robot shrugged. "I suppose we will not know until we get there. But, Ratchet," he turned to face his friend more fully as he added, "I do hope it _is_ a Lombax."

"Thanks, buddy."

Ratchet turned to studying the ground and kicking his feet against the counter harder than ever, while Clank remained with his arms folded in his lap with a patience no organic could ever muster, until the Lombax's gaze was drawn upward by a shadow that stopped within his field of vision.

"Yeah, is our ship—"

His eyes widened, however, when it was not a Vullard that his gaze landed upon, but an alien of an entirely different species, with pale green, speckled skin and a mane of dark red hair like a Florana dandelion, which hid downward pointing ears that peeked out on either side of her face. But, what caught Ratchet's attention most of all was the curious assortment of bits and pieces hanging from her layered clothing. She had such a collection of scraps, in fact, one would think she was trying very hard to turn into a Vullard.

She studied him as if he was a very baffling specimen indeed, and the various objects arranged about her clinked and jingled as she shifted her stance. "Where are you going?"

Ratchet's eyes swiveled this way and that before he jabbed a thumb to his chest, and she nodded. He glanced over at Clank, whose perplexed frown was enough evidence that she was not just a figment of his imagination.

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "I don't know. Where are _you_ going?"

"Nowhere."

"All right." He attempted to look away, but his attention was drawn back to her when she failed to cease her unsettling staring. "Can I help you?"

She pressed her lips in a frown. "With what?"

"Nothing, I guess." Ratchet turned in his seat to put his back to her in the hopes that a more obvious approach would make it clear he wasn't in the mood to be pestered. The point did not seem to be taken, however, when he heard her speak up again behind him.

"No, seriously. Where are you going?"

Ratchet spun back around, gritting his teeth to find her looking at _him_ in annoyance. "And _how_ is this your business?"

"I'm just asking. The only people who usually stop by here are smugglers looking to elude the authorizes or dopes who are hopelessly lost." She strode forward with crossed arms and leaned in to better look him in the eyes. "Which one are you?"

"Neither!" When flailing his arms in gestures of rage failed to end her scrutiny, he rose to his feet and slid along the wall to put a better distance between the two of them. "And frankly, it's none of your business!"

She squinted one eye and scratched her chin in dire seriousness. "You _do_ look pretty shady…."

"As a matter of fact…" Clank spoke up behind her as he followed his friend's lead and rose to his feet, as well, and her gaze shot this way and that, her wild mane of hair floating about her in an almost gravity-free manner as she searched for the source of the voice until the little robot mimicked clearing his throat. "Down here, if you please."

Ratchet huffed. "Clank, it's really—"

"We are actually seeking the source of a mysterious distress signal. Would you happen to know anything about it? If you have a proper transceiver, surely you have caught some trace of the signal, as well."

The woman stared down at the tiny robot, who continued to gaze up at her expectantly, before she turned to the Lombax. "You're following a distress signal?"

"Don't look at _me_. _He's_ the one who's apparently in a talkative mood right now."

Returning her gaze to the small robot, she said, "Well, yeah, actually, I caught the signal, as well. But, I couldn't read it." She directed an inquisitive eyebrow back at the Lombax. "Could _you_?"

"Yeah, and that's where we're heading just as soon as our ship's refueled," Ratchet said. "And while we're on the subject of butting into things that aren't any of our business, why don't you tell me what _you're_ doing all the way out here in the middle of nowhere? According to you, only criminals and idiots come here. So which one are _you_?"

She grinned to reveal crooked teeth. "I guess I fall in the 'neither' category myself, no matter how shady I might seem. I actually live here."

Ratchet arched a furry eyebrow. "You…live here? On this tiny asteroid?"

"Yeah. And so do the Vullards. Well, to be honest, I only live here sometimes. I needed some scraps, you see." She cupped a hand around her mouth and lowered her voice as if divulging some hidden secret. "Don't let V'rhil know."

Ratchet turned away with a roll of his eyes and began to march back in the direction of the ship. "I wasn't going to."

"Cool."

"Come on, Clank," he called over his shoulder, but he didn't get very far before the woman zipped ahead of him with an unnatural speed to plant herself back in his path.

"Hey, I have an idea!"

"That's nice. But, we—"

"Why don't I go with you? I've never gone on a rescue mission before, and then I can help you save your damsel, or guy, in distress. And besides, I've been hearing this signal on my radio for some time now, and I just _have_ to find out where it's coming from! _And_ if you take me with you in _your_ ship, we can…" She scratched one of her pointed, drooping ears as she tilted her head in contemplation. "We can, I think it's called, 'carpool'. And that sounds fun because I like pools. Not really, though. It just…it sounds fun because of the word 'pool', even though I know it doesn't really…um…"

Ratchet remained silent throughout her entire, mad spiel, considering it was impossible to get a word in edgewise, and once her tirade began to dwindle down, her earlier grin started to fade in response to the unimpressed stare that hadn't once wavered upon his feline features.

"I-we…we can't just…take you along with us," Ratchet began once he was finally allowed to respond, forcing a calmness into his voice that he could only manage due to having been given more than enough time to prepare for it. "I mean, we don't even know who sent the signal or what kind of trouble they're in, so I wouldn't feel right putting a…" he eyed her unorthodox style of dress, "you in any danger. All right? Are we clear?"

She blinked at him. "But…we can carpool."

"I understand that. And the answer's still no."

An uneasiness settled in Ratchet's stomach as her weakening smile dissolved completely, and she remained silent as she digested yet another denial to her request. Before he could react, but not before he could cry out in surprise, she lunged at him, producing a knife from some hidden pocket of her clothing as she grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close with a frightening strength for someone of her frame.

"You think I can't take care of myself just because I'm a girl? Is that it? Huh?" she said as she shook the knife she held, blade up, beneath his chin.

Ratchet shook his head, causing his large ears to flop from side to side as Clank looked all about in search of some way to rescue his friend.

"No," the Lombax said. "No, I-I didn't say _anything_ like that. It's just that—"

"Put that away, outsider. We get few enough customers as it is without you threatening them."

Ratchet breathed a sigh of relief, though his body remained tense even after she released him to turn to the approaching Vullards.

"I'm sorry, V'arak." Her head swiveled back to her recent victim, who had already retreated from her to put the Vullards between the two of them, and his hand drifted to his blaster even after the knife disappeared into the many folds of her clothes.

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "I didn't mean to scare you. I—"

"Please, take her off our hands for a while," V'rhil said, turning his slender neck in Ratchet's direction. "She is actually quite harmless."

"It's just that," the other Vullard picked up from where his comrade had left off, "she keeps taking our things, and—"

"I like to collect trinkets, that's all," the woman said, and the Vullard nearest her reached out to snatch one such item, a screwdriver, from her belt.

"And we depend on these 'trinkets' for our livelihood, outsider," he said as he shook the object at her.

"Well, what say you, outsider?" V'rhil asked.

"Yes, please." The woman clasped her hands together, an imploring look in her eyes that Ratchet just wasn't buying. "I won't ever threaten you again. I-" Without warning, she jumped aside as Clank approached her, and she continued to shuffle away in backward retreat even as he strode by.

"You must understand," the robot began, "that we are justified to be a little wary when, upon our very first meeting, she wields a knife at my friend."

Her mouth opened in a silent gasp at this statement, and V'arak said in reply, "Perfectly understandable, but we assure you, she is just a little, how should I put this, jumpy from time to time. Just know we would not knowingly put you in any danger."

"Yes," V'rhil steepled his fingers, "and we need as many customers as we can get."

"Great, jumpy and likes to play with knives. _Perfect_ combination," Ratchet said under his breath as V'arak directed a questioning look at his comrade, and the Lombax continued his objections in a much louder voice. "You know what, absolutely not! We _just_ met her, and she tried to stick a knife in me! I don't-you know, I-I really don't even see why we're having this conversation in the first place! If she's so content to stalk us, then she can take her own-" He immediately regretted these words as his mind wandered to how much more harm she could inflict upon him when sitting behind a ship's plasma cannons. "Just…the answer's no, and that's it!"

With the matter at an end, or so he hoped, but he was leaving before he found out otherwise, Ratchet spun about to stomp back in the direction of Aphelion with his robotic companion following close behind, and he firmly ignored the woman's attempts to call after him, "What do you have against carpooling, mister?"

"It _is_ better for the environment, I suppose."

"You're not helping, Clank."

They arrived back at Aphelion, but as he hoisted himself into the cockpit, Ratchet fell back out again with a yelp to land on his backend in the dust at the discovery of his attacker sitting in the pilot seat with her legs tucked up beneath her.

"What are you _doing_ here? Get out!" the Lombax said as he jumped to his feet without caring to dust himself off, but she showed no signs of budging.

"What _I_ am curious about is how you got here so quickly?" Clank asked.

"It's a small asteroid," she said with a shrug. "V'rhil said he'd give you a refund if you let me come with you," she continued, and her face turned somber. "I understand why you're reluctant, and I really am sorry about my behavior back there, but I'm sure I can be of some help you. I'm more reliable than I look. You said you don't know what you might be getting into, so maybe having three on your side might be better than two."

The Lombax growled. "Look, we can't—"

"If you want me out of here, you're going to need to pick me up. And I kick. And bite. I also haven't cut my nails in a while."

Ratchet chewed on his lower lip, his friend's advice to count to ten in such circumstances hardly helping. At last, he managed to get out, "How much of a refund are we talking here?"

* * *

><p>"I really wouldn't call ten bolts a refund," Ratchet said as he returned Aphelion to the proper course, the signal, thankfully, easily picked up again after a little searching.<p>

"Just be grateful you got anything. V'rhil's a greedy, little bugger."

He sighed. "And what did you say your name was again?"

"Ophelia Jana. Nice to meet you." She thrust an arm out over Clank's head, who had the misfortune, or pleasure, of being stuck in the middle of a ship really only meant to seat two. She withdrew her hand as her expression darkened. "But, don't shorten it to anything silly. Like Phelia. Or Phil."

Ratchet rolled his eyes. "Well, that's good you told me, because otherwise I was planning on it."

"If I am being quite honest here, this is actually quite cozy," the robot said as he snuggled into his new spot.

"It's your turn," she whispered when he failed to reciprocate the formality.

Grumbling, the Lombax answered, "Yeah, well, I'm Ratchet," he jerked his head in the direction of his friend, "he's Clank. Great, now we all know each other, let's not talk anymore, okay?"

"Ratchet and Clank?" She giggled. "What a funny pair of names. You two should be in a holo-film just for those names alone."

"As a matter of fact, we have been," Clank began with one finger held up. "You see, I played the spy Secret Agent Clank in a series of holo-films of the same name."

"Uh-huh. And who was _he_?"

"Why, he was my—"

"Stop talking, Clank."

Ophelia turned to the Lombax next for questioning. "Well, who _were_ you? I wanna know."

"It's not important."

"Well, come on. Tell me." She tilted her head and flashed a toothy grin that turned sinister as her eyes narrowed. "How much time before we reach the source of that signal?"

Ratchet opened his mouth, only to close it again. Point taken. "Well, you see, I-I was…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "I was…uh, Clank's…partner. Yeah, and—"

"Actually, to my recollection, you—"

"Clank."

"-were my butler." The robot put a hand to his mouth, an action that came far too late. "Oh, I see. My apologies."

She jerked back in her seat from sheer laughter, all the while managing to find room to kick her feet, and Ratchet winced at how shrill simple amusement could be. "Oh, how funny! A butler to a robot! How ridiculous!"

Ratchet aimed a glower in her direction. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

She released a couple more giggles, which cut off as soon as she saw the look in the Lombax's eyes. "Nothing. It meant nothing."

"No, really. 'I wanna know'."

"Ratchet, I really—"

"I didn't mean _anything_, okay? So cool it, hot head!"

"Excuse me?" Ratchet said, and the finger-pointing began. "_You're_ the one who tried to slice _me_ up with a knife, so I don't think _I'm_ the one who—"

"Yeah," she leaned towards him with little regard for the robot seated beside her, "because you'd make a nice rug, fur ball!"

"_Fur_ ball?"

"Yeah! Fur. Ball."

"Be quiet, both of you!" said the muffled voice of Clank as he attempted to push both of them away. "We have known each for less than an hour, and already you two are reduced to arguing like children. Where did this anger even come from?"

Ratchet gnawed on his lower lip. "I-I don't know, but-" He turned away, silence engulfing them once again as Clank kept a close eye on the two on either side of him. And then it was over, just like that. "But, you know what, we agreed to take you along, and—"

"Ratchet."

That one word was enough to silence the Lombax, though there was nothing his friend could do to prevent the sidelong glances he continued to aim in the woman's direction. She, too, sent him glowers of her own, far more open than his, before she slouched in her seat and crossed her arms.

"So, what do you two _do_, huh?" she asked with an exhalation of breath. "Not many travel this far out, so I have to assume you're much more than actors."

"That's because we're _not_ actors. Believe it or not, we're actually…I don't know, what would you call us, Clank?"

The robot put a hand to his chin. "Hmm, well…adventurers, I suppose."

"Yeah, I- But, Ophelia, you've never heard of us?" Ratchet asked. "Not to sound arrogant or anything, but we _did_ save the galaxy a couple of times. I think that should get us, I don't know, a _little_ fame."

She shook her head. "Nope. But, I've been kinda…isolated for a while."

"Why? Where are you from?"

She shook her head. "It-it doesn't matter. The place is dead now anyway."

"I see. Well, you haven't heard of Captain Qwark by any chance, have you? He's usually the one that takes all the _credit_ each time we save the galaxy."

"Oh, yeah, I've heard of him!" She clasped her hands together. "He's a real…"

The Lombax sighed. "Thought so."

"A real big dummy."

Ratchet grinned. "Hey, it looks like we might not get along so badly, after all. Did you know his middle name…is Leslie?"

"No, no, I didn't." She began to shriek with laughter again.

"It's not _that_ funny."

She bit her lower lip and nodded. "Yeah, it really is!"

Clank folded his arms, disapproval clear on his face, while the Lombax winced at each shrill squeak and giggle their newest and, hopefully, temporary companion made. Regretting his decision of humor and making a note to refrain from any jokes in the future, he asked the ship, "Aphelion, how much longer before we reach the signal?"

"Approximately 3.7 hours."

"It gives us more time to bond!" she said, and Ratchet shuddered.

* * *

><p>Approximately 3.7 hours later, give or take 15 minutes, a grey planet came into view before them, half of it obscured in the black crescent of an encroaching nightfall, and Ratchet steered Aphelion in the direction where she indicated the signal to be originating, thankful that it was on the side that still maintained daylight. It wasn't the friendliest looking planet around, for as they approached, the grey was revealed to be a churning sea of dark clouds that was illuminated in patches from the electricity arcing about within.<p>

Once they entered the cloud mass, they would be put at risk of low visibility at best and being fried to a crisp in a lightning strike at worst, and he swallowed as he pushed the yoke down, and they dipped towards the tempest below.

"Hang on, you guys!"

And then everything was dark, their faces visible only in the glow of Aphelion's dashboard, and Ratchet didn't have to look over to know Clank and Ophelia were both as tense as he. And then the screaming began as a thick bolt of lightning surged forth in front of them, and Ratchet swerved, only to jerk the yoke in the opposite direction when another flashed beside them, and it was sheer luck and Lombax instinct that kept them from being struck a dozen times. And yet, once they broke through the ceiling of clouds, they shrieked in unison at the sight of the ground opening up to meet them far sooner than it had any right to be this early into their descent, before they were sent spinning end over end as a stray lightning bolt clipped the end of Aphelion's left wing.

They tumbled towards the ground below, and all the while, Ratchet's thoughts turned to the hope that, since his life wasn't flashing before his eyes, that could only be a good sign, along with a new oath that, if they managed to survive this, he really needed to heed Clank's advice from now on. Well, at least _most_ of the time. Okay, that wasn't going to happen, so he might as well just take that back.

The last thing he saw was a swirl of greens and browns and greys before the free fall was broken by what he could only guess was the flora below, and, as quickly as their tumble began, it was over. The screaming was replaced by groaning, and the Lombax picked his aching body off the dashboard he was now draped over and proceeded to ensure that every part of his body was still intact. He finished his inspection with his tail. Yep, still just as…there as ever.

"Clank? Ophelia? You guys okay?"

"My internal diagnostics confirm that I am fully functional," Clank said, though he placed a hand to the side of his head with a grimace.

"Well, let's get going and find whoever sent that distress signal," Ophelia said, and with that, she opened Aphelion's cockpit and leapt clear.

Ratchet was drenched by the heavy rainfall within seconds as his fur plastered to his body, and he blinked the water from his eyes as he stretched an arm out in her direction. "Hey, slow down, we don't even know what's out there yet!"

"Oh, dear," the robot said as he inspected his hands, "I hope I do not rust."

"Let's just try and find shelter as fast as we can, okay, buddy?" The Lombax climbed out of the cockpit, calling out the woman's name all the while, though she was lost to sight through rain that fell like a curtain about them.

"Where has she gone?" The robot stopped beside him to gaze up at his companion.

"You know what, forget her. We'll just find a place to wait out the storm, and then we'll find that Lombax. Or…_whoever_ they are."

Clank looked back only once more at the unfamiliar wilderness surrounding them and at their smoking ship, before he followed his friend into the undergrowth.

* * *

><p>While the planet was densely covered in a wide variety of plants and the ground overtaken by a web of thick roots, the foliage did little to prevent the rain from beating down upon them. And as they trekked through the mud on their search for somewhere relatively dry to spend their time until the storm died down, Ratchet swore some of the plants had a less than friendly air about them, while others swayed in a manner that seemed to be more purposeful than he was comfortable with, and he wondered how effective his pyrocitor would be in the rain.<p>

As it turned out, they soon discovered that they had landed, or crashed, if he was being at all honest with himself, atop a high mountain peak overlooking nothing but mist and another layer of storm clouds just as enraged as the one that loomed above, and they had to turn back several times when they came upon the sheer slopes that marked the end of where they could safely wander. Their trek was made even more hazardous, or at least, _annoying_, thanks to a rather vicious species of toad that nibbled at the Lombax's heels, his robotic companion safe from harm on his back, but they were nothing a few shots from his blaster couldn't take care of. Or a few kicks.

The pair eventually stopped beneath an outcropping of rock where only the spray of rain blown by the wind reached, and Ratchet got to wringing out his clothes and his ears. But, building a fire for warmth and to speed up the drying process was impossible, and so was finding any comfort in the damp, especially when a few dozen grubs popped out of a patch of mud next to where the Lombax was sitting. Night fell not terribly long later, and the only illumination came from the green glow of Clank's eyes and the flashes of lightning, which no longer caused them to start after the first several dozen times it happened.

Why couldn't someone have gotten stranded on Pokitaru? Or anywhere _else_, for that matter.

After a lovely night of shivering and attempting to snuggle up next to his friend before he remembered that robots lacked body heat, Ratchet's stomach was grumbling, and he tried to think of the grubs he had inadvertently sat in yesterday evening to try and quell any sort of appetite he might have. The storm even now showed no signs of stopping anytime soon, and they were left with no choice but to continue their wandering right from where they had left off with the hopes of finding what they had come here for. And their new comrade, according to Clank, though the robot surely couldn't blame him for leaving her behind if they didn't know where she was to begin with. Okay, they probably needed to find her, too. He couldn't say he was going to try that hard, though.

The Lombax tried a couple different fruits he had picked on their walk by, though several made him gag, and he had to spit out a mouthful of another when he caught a worm peeking out of a hole in the bit he still held in his hand. Only one type was relatively edible, a purple fruit with fuzzy skin and a pale inside, and all the while he ignored Clank's warnings that the food here might be poisonous. With their luck lately, it probably was.

They spent the better part of a day wandering and shoving their way through walls of ivy that had intertwined themselves about the thick trees like leafy webs, and it was with no shortage of pleasure when they stepped into a more open clearing to spot a structure not a terrible distance away.

"There's a building up ahead, Clank! We can get out of this storm! And maybe that's where the signal's coming from!"

The Lombax began to dash forward, uncaring of the mud that splashed onto his boots, and he pushed his way through the next group of bushes that blocked his path. And then he found it, a sprawling complex built onto a hilly landscape, and he couldn't stop a grin from overtaking his face, though at the comfort that would soon be theirs above all else.

But, as he stepped forward, he was stopped in his tracks, his earlier cheer diminished, when a familiar voice met his ears.

"How nice of you to stop by."

* * *

><p>Ah, there you go. I hope the wait was worth it. I had fun fixing this chapter up, and I hope my original character isn't too annoying. And by the way, I originally labeled her as OC when first writing this story, so I decided to name her Ophelia because it starts with an O, as well.<p>

And who do you think is speaking at the end? Please review, fellow organics! And any robots that might be reading this, as well.


	3. Chapter 3: Some People Are Just Sick

Another long wait. Sorry about that. I think this one was shorter than last time, though, so that's good. Nevertheless, I assure you, this chapter has some more surprises I'm sure you'll find were worth the wait. I hope….

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3: Some People Are Just Sick<strong>

Ratchet groaned as Lawrence, the butler and cohort of Dr. Nefarious himself, emerged from behind the nearby thicket of trees with a blaster aimed at them from beneath the relative comfort of a black umbrella he held in his other hand, the color of choice for all posh people, looking positively bored about the whole thing.

"We were starting to wonder if you were ever going to show up," Lawrence said.

"No! Oh, no, don't-" Ratchet began, at a clear loss for words, not to mention an uncertainty as to whether or not he might, in fact, be hallucinating the whole matter thanks to those strange fruits Clank had warned him about. At last, practice made perfect, and he was able to get out, "Don't tell me we came all this way…for _you_ two!"

"I'm afraid so. Come with me please."

"But, how did you…that was a Lombax…_you're_ the ones who sent that distress signal, right? I mean—"

"I _could_ tell you, but my…employer would rather do it himself. I can't guarantee it will be entirely comprehendible, however."

"Well, I hate to break it to you, but we're not going anywhere," Ratchet said as he pulled out his Negotiator. "Huh, bigger gun. Looks like _I_ win."

"Oh, silly me," Lawrence said, "I've almost forgotten." The robot pointed skyward, and the Lombax's gaze rose to alight on a weapon of rather large proportions rising out of the trees before aiming right at the spot where he and Clank were standing. "Heat-seeking missiles. What was that you were saying about a 'bigger gun'?"

Ratchet's attention dropped back down to the portly robot, who still looked thoroughly unimpressed, even at having gained the upper hand. "Why didn't you just start out with that?"

"Right this way please."

The butler directed them to walk ahead of him, and they were brought inside the sprawling complex Ratchet was no longer particularly thrilled about reaching, especially once he learned it didn't provide shelter from the rain quite as much as he had hoped. The place had obviously been abandoned for some time, based on the way the ceiling leaked and the vegetation from outside had pushed its way in through the floor tiles and the air ducts. And there was a suspicious scent in the air that reminded the Lombax very much of mold, and based on his luck, _toxic_ mold, no doubt. And of course, _he_ was the only one who had to worry about such a thing. Sometimes being an organic wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

After traversing a series of cold and gloomy rooms and hallways, during which Ratchet could've sworn Lawrence stole one strand of his fur when he wasn't looking due to a pinch on the back of his neck that the butler denied any responsibility over in a manner that was just a bit _too_ innocent, they eventually stopped in an office of sorts that had been fixed up marginally better than what they had just passed through. Of course, "better" was a term used loosely in this circumstance, as even here, several buckets were arranged about to collect the trickle of rainwater from above. But, what made Ratchet reach for his belt most of all, before remembering he had been made to leave his weapons behind, was the one seated behind the desk, and though this person remained hidden from view behind a tall chair that was kept turned away, Ratchet knew exactly who it was.

"So we meet again, the squishy and his pet robot," said a grating voice they knew all too well. "What a shame it couldn't have been under better circumstances."

The Lombax's ears drooped, not just at the confirmation of who this was, but in anticipation of how longwinded the supervillain could be. "Cut the crap, Nefarious. We know you want something from us, so why don't you just get to the point so I can refuse already?"

"Oh-ho, getting a little cranky, are we, Lombax? Oh, yes, I've forgotten, felines don't like getting their fur wet." The scientist chuckled. "Aren't you at all curious how we ended up here in the first place? _Well_?"

Ratchet scratched his head. Was it just him, or did Nefarious' voice sound…stuffy? Shaking the thought from his mind, he said, "Fine, Nefarious. I'm sure you're dying to get into one of your monologues anyway."

"Splendid. Well, where should I begin—"

"How about you start by telling us what happened to your space—"

"This is _my_ monologue, you twit! _I'll_ decide how it begins!" Nefarious said, only for his rage to be cooled by an unwitting cough. "Oh, yes, well…" he continued, unable to resist a sniff, "you've seen it, have you? Then, you no doubt know that someone set off an EMP—"

"Yeah, so how did you and Lawrence—"

"Would you be quiet!"

"My apologies," Lawrence told Ratchet in a hushed voice from his place at the doctor's side, "he's been rather, how shall I put it, fussy as of late."

"So the usual, then."

"I said be quiet! How can I do a proper villainous monologue with you fools constantly interrupting me?"

"I'm _sorry_, but you're taking forever to get to anything!" the Lombax said. "And can't you at least face us when you talk to us?"

The doctor snorted, the only proof Ratchet's comment had been heard, even if it remained ignored. "As I was saying, someone managed to sneak into my space station, and…"

"And then he was kidnapped."

"Lawrence, I swear, if you say _one_ more word…" Dr. Nefarious spun about in his chair and struck the desk with both fists, but it was not his outburst that caused Ratchet and Clank to draw back in surprise.

"What _happened_ to you?" Ratchet asked.

"Oh, dear," was all Clank could say, for before them was not the Dr. Nefarious they knew, but the organic one from before his transformation into the robotic supervillain they had faced so many times prior. It was clear life had not been kind to him in the recent past, thanks to the fading evidence of cuts and bruises that had yet to vanish entirely, and the scar he had received over his right eye, courtesy of Ratchet's bomb several years prior, remained, but it was him, nonetheless.

"The vid comics don't do him justice," Ratchet whispered to his friend, whose response was merely an admonishing frown, before the Lombax burst into sniggers.

"Don't you _dare_ laugh at me!" the organic Nefarious said. "I am still the greatest supervillain to have ever lived, and I will still annihilate you before—" But, his tirade was put to an early end due to a pause whose reason was explained several seconds later when he sneezed, and Ratchet started laughing harder than ever.

"Caught a little cold, eh, Nefarious?"

His amusement was cut short, however, when, with a snarl, the scrawny Kerwanoid pulled out a blaster and left a smoking crater in the wall mere inches from Ratchet's head. The room grew silent, save for the raindrops, those inside and out, and the supervillain's heavy breathing.

"H-hey," Ratchet began, moving his hands in a downward motion in the most calming manner he knew, "take it easy, okay? Why don't-why don't you put the gun down and—"

"Not another word, squishy."

"Sir, it will be rather difficult for them to help us if you've reduced them to smoking carcasses." Lawrence added in a softer tone, "Plus, I know _I'll_ be the one stuck cleaning up the mess."

"Do you want to be next, Lawrence? Now, I don't want to hear another word from _any_ of you until I've finished my evil, villainous monologue. Do I make myself clear?"

They all nodded.

The doctor eased himself back into the seat behind him, his sour expression not once wavering, which wasn't exactly a very comforting sign when his blaster remained aimed at the Lombax, who seemed to be a very popular target for maniacs with weapons these days.

"As I was saying," he began in a low growl, "_someone_ snuck into my space station. And it's none of your business what happened because all you need to know is he somehow managed to turn me back into…this and locked me up in his ship. When-" Nefarious groaned and put a hand to his head, and Ratchet released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding when the scientist set the gun down with a clatter upon his desk. "You see what a sorry state I'm in? I can't even do a proper monologue. I've forgotten how achy squishies get."

"Getting bludgeoned over the head and surviving a crash has a way of doing that, sir," Lawrence said, though the supervillain merely buried his face in his arms in response.

When it was clear Nefarious was in the middle of an exceedingly rare bout of silence that may never be witnessed again for at least a couple centuries, were he to live that long in the form he currently possessed, the robotic butler mimicked clearing his throat and spoke up again. "If I may be so bold as to continue, as you most certainly have guessed, we haven't a clue who did it, but I was able to sneak onto his ship before he set off the EMP device, and I stayed hidden until we were able to escape by stealing his ship the next time he made a stop. I was unable to get a good look at him, however, as he was wearing the most ridiculous outfit I had seen since last the Q-Force was active. Honestly, I don't know when a proper suit and tie went out of style."

Lawrence sighed at this most unsettling trend in fashion before he continued, "Anyway, if _someone_ hadn't insisted this would be a perfect place to hide out for a while, we wouldn't have ended up crashing here to begin with. Or if that someone _also_ wasn't so determined to believe that a nearly empty fuel tank was nothing to worry about."

The scientist grunted as Clank directed a meaningful glance up at his friend. Well, if a supposed genius could overlook such a thing…

"Well, I'm sorry about your luck," Ratchet said, "but now _we're_ stranded here. And what makes you think we'd want to help you? On second thought, why the Lombax distress signal in the first place? And _how_?"

It appeared to take some effort for Nefarious to sit up straight again (having a head that size, it was no wonder, cold or not), his arms remaining folded on his desk as he blinked lethargically at them, looking like he had an impending nap sneaking up on him. "How _else_ could I have made you come running?" He yawned. "Plus, your ship is the only one in the galaxy that can decipher a Lombax LKI encryption key. As for _how_ I did it, I _could_ explain it to you, but I'd need to use a lot of big words your feeble squishy brain wouldn't understand." He steepled his fingers, before giving a nod to Lawrence, the gesture a silent signal to leave the room. "And you _will_ help us, Lombax. Whether you like it or not. If there's someone out there capable of breaking through my ingenious defense—"

"Besides us, of course."

"-then—"

"And Qwark."

The doctor glowered at him and drummed the fingers of one hand on his desk. "Are you through?"

"Go on."

Nefarious cleared his throat. "If there's _someone_ with such power, I think it would be in your benefit to stop them, as well, squishy. If he could get away with such insolence," he sighed, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but the entire galaxy could be in danger. And—"

Ratchet couldn't prevent a bark of laughter from slipping out, only to suppress any further mirth when he remembered what happened the last time he had made such a noise. "Since when do _you_ care about what happens to the galaxy?"

The doctor pushed himself to his feet and marched around the desk to better close the distance between them, the Lombax's amusement seeming to have sparked some of his old energy. "I _don't_ care, you twit! But, I can't have some _other_ villain taking what's rightfully mine! If countless planets are going to be decimated and innocent civilians annihilated, it has to be by _my_ hand!" His voice lowered to a sinister growl, and he clasped his hands together as a most wicked grin spread across his face. "And most of all, after what he did to me, I have some very special…plans in mind for next we meet."

"Well," Ratchet said, "if there's someone out there that wants you stopped, you're going to find it very difficult to convince me to confront them about it."

The doctor rolled his eyes. "Are you really that thick, Lombax? When has anyone with such abilities ever been on _your_ side?" He tapped his rather large head with one finger. "Think, squishy, and if you mean to tell me he plans to use that for…the powers of good, you're an even bigger moron than I imagined."

Ratchet moved to the door, and with his hand set upon the doorknob, he said, "Sorry, Nefarious, but you're on your own. I'm not about to side with you on one of your vendettas. If this person, whoever he is, is a threat, Clank and I can take care of it on our own, and you can just rot here like you deserve."

Dr. Nefarious merely chuckled to himself, a sinister glint visible in his eyes. "Well, I can't say I expected any different. You'll give in eventually. You'll see."

Ratchet opened the door. "And don't even think about stealing _our_ ship. Aphelion's too smart to let scumbags like you run off with her." With that, he left the room with Clank following close behind.

"You're just as stuck here as _we_ are, Lombax!" Nefarious called after them.

"No, we're not!"

Ratchet marched down the hallway, grateful that even Nefarious wasn't as relentless as Ophelia had been when he had denied her requests, and he shivered when a drop of water landed on the back of his neck. "I can't believe they actually think we would help them. Heck, I can't believe I fell for that suspicious distress signal." He slowed to step carefully over a rather large puddle that had formed in the middle of the hallway. "By the way, you were awfully quiet back there."

"I was thinking," Clank said.

Ratchet stopped and turned back to the little robot behind him, who had less trouble sidling by the puddle thanks to smaller feet. "I sure hope you're not going to tell me I _should_ help Nefarious. _Are_ you?"

Clank shook his head. "Not at all. But, Ratchet, Dr. Nefarious does have a point. Whoever managed to overpower him with such ease is not someone we should take lightly, if this person has evil intentions. And if he is merely a…vigilante, what do you think he planned to accomplish by kidnapping the galaxy's most-wanted criminal? Would he have not just taken him to the authorities?"

"I have no idea," Ratchet said as he turned to continue their retreat, and he gasped when he kicked a bucket he hadn't noticed was behind him and knocked it over. He hopped about in pain, a dance his friend could only watch, until the Lombax continued in a strained voice, "But, you know what, the only thing on _my_ mind right now is getting off this planet!" Despite his previous efforts to stay dry, one boot was now thoroughly soaked from the water that had rushed forth from the bucket in a wave, and he headed down the hallway at twice the pace as before, his footfalls squeaking with every other step.

"I do not believe even _that_ will be easy. Aphelion is damaged, and—"

"You think I don't know that? I'll just repair her, and we'll get out of here once the storm clears."

"And there is always that missile launcher Lawrence pointed out to consider."

"Right, that. Well, we'll just figure that out when the time comes. Right now, we just need to get out of here before I get anymore guns aimed at me."

Speaking of guns…

When the duo reached the entrance of the decaying facility, no sign of their weapons could be found, and Ratchet didn't need to look over to know who was responsible. "Okay, Lawrence, where did you put them?"

The butler glanced over with only half an interest as he set a bucket beneath the newest leak. "Excuse me? Have I apparently done something?"

Ratchet approached the robot and thrust out a hand. "Hand them over."

Lawrence put a hand to his chin and feigned deep thought. "Oh, yes, do you mean your weapons? Why, we couldn't have you running around with such dangerous things. But, perhaps if you asked nicely…"

"Okay, can we _please_ have our weapons back?"

"No, but thanks for trying." The robotic butler hefted a bucket in his arms that had just begun to overflow. "Though, I do wish _some_ people practiced such manners more often. It would certainly make my job _marginally_ less dismal."

The Lombax watched him with narrowed eyes as he walked by. "You know, if you think that's going to keep us here, it's not."

"Glad to hear it," Lawrence said before he disappeared through the nearest doorway.

Ratchet growled. "These last few days have _really_ been getting on my nerves."

* * *

><p>Dr. Nefarious was never very good at bottling up his emotions. In fact, he was, more often than not, quite prone to releasing these emotions, which usually came in the form of fury or rage or any other manner of unpleasantness, the moment they came to his attention. There were times he could be patient, however, because what good was a proper incensed tirade when there was no one to take it out on?<p>

That was one of the few things Lawrence was good for, the stupid twit.

The supervillain had since returned to his chair, which he was certain would sprout some sort of infectious mold any day now thanks to all the blasted damp, and all of his butler's efforts to convince him otherwise would not sway him. Of course, if he was still a robot rather than the pathetic squishy he had been long ago, when people used to laugh and tease him for what they went so far as to dub a "deformity", he wouldn't need to worry about disease or whatever other itching or oozing the mold most certainly festering around him would eventually inflict him with. If he was still a robot, he wouldn't have this horrid runny nose and scratchy throat, and he wouldn't be subjected to that terrible medicine his butler kept forcing on him. It wasn't helping. He was surely getting worse.

He swore Lawrence was trying to poison him.

The scientist folded his arms on the desk to rest his head on them, and though he had plenty of productive things he could be doing right now, such as continuing his work on a certain masterpiece that would aid in their escape, he simply couldn't focus on any of that when he had an impending tantrum coming on.

What was taking Lawrence so long anyway? If he didn't return soon, he might very well have no other choice but to hunt the portly robot down himself, which wouldn't help his mood any.

His head jerked up at the rattle of the doorknob, which turned with a slow reluctance, and scarcely had his butler entered the room that Nefarious said, "I told you your stupid plan wouldn't work."

Lawrence's disinterested blue optics met the scientist's with a cool calmness, as if he had merely been addressed by an unruly child rather than the greatest genius in the universe, a fact he still didn't seem to have grasped.

"They're _here_, aren't they, sir?" the butler asked.

The skinny scientist pounded his fists on the desk. "And what good does _that_ do us? If you weren't such a moron, you'd know there's no way those two idiots would actually agree to helping us."

He watched as his butler took up a feather duster and got to cleaning a bookcase.

"And that's why," Nefarious continued, "you should just let me annihilate them," he added a few vicious jabs at the surface of his desk with one index finger for emphasis' sake, "right now, and we can get off this rock before we drown or get struck by lightning or any other fate that might await us." Surely the Lombax was bluffing when he made the claim that his ship wouldn't allow itself to be stolen. Squishies weren't the most honest bunch. And he would know, considering he _was_ one. Again.

Lawrence picked up a small statue of a prancing satyr and, with great precision, began to dust every nook and crevice of it.

"Lawrence, are you even paying attention to a word I'm saying?"

"Something about annihilating someone, yes, I heard you, sir—"

"And would you just get rid of that stupid thing already?" The scientist directed an accusatory finger at the objectionable object to which he objected. "How many times do I have to tell you I hate it? I swear, it's always staring at me! It follows me with its eyes!"

"I highly doubt that, sir. And your belief that it's going to kill you in your sleep—"

"Just throw it out, Lawrence!"

"But, it adds such a personal touch to the space."

"Throw it out before I beat you over the head with it!"

Lawrence stared at him, blinking once before he approached the trash bin with a slowness like the lethargy of a lizard in a freezer, and with one, final staring contest between the two, he allowed the object to roll from his grip and land with a muffled thump in the trash receptacle.

Dr. Nefarious leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms with the smug satisfaction of victory. "That's better." He blinked in thought. "Now, where was I?"

"Sir, if I may, I understand your desire to murder your enemies in cold blood, but as I've been saying since the day you regained consciousness, wouldn't it be far better to get some use out of them first? And in case you didn't realize, neither of us knows how to repair a Lombax ship—"

"I could figure it out, Lawrence."

"-if you weren't so against going out in the rain, and even then…"

"Then, I'll kill them _after_ the Lombax—"

"May I finish, please?"

"I don't know, _may_ you?"

At a standstill, they both grew silent, and Lawrence fidgeted with the feather duster gripped in his hand like a magnet resisting the urge to join its opposite. Neat freak.

"Sir…"

Nefarious threw his arms up in the air. "Fine, just get on with it!" The doctor's gloved hands met each other to steeple in front of his chin, one of the few signs he intended a level of attentiveness uncommon for him and which rarely managed to last.

Now that he had the spotlight, his butler made a show of clearing his throat, if that was possible for a robot. "Whether or not you want to admit it, Ratchet and Clank have proven themselves to be quite competent at fighting all manner of villainy, something you have very little experience in."

Nefarious waved a hand at him. "Get to the point, Lawrence!"

"Sir, it would be to our advantage to use them to find the person who destroyed your space station, and who kidnapped you, not to mention—"

"I'm losing my patience, Lawrence!"

"What I'm trying to say is, for once, all of us want the same thing, so we might as well save ourselves the trouble and have them find this person for us. We're not necessarily well-equipped to locate them ourselves, considering your recent fail—"

The supervillain struck the armrests with both fists. "And what makes you think they'll cooperate?"

The robotic butler produced a small remote adorned with a single button. "In that case, the heat-seeking missiles have now been programmed to target the Lombax DNA signature thanks to that hair sample I procured."

Dr. Nefarious clapped his hands together in villainous glee, in stark contrast to his earlier fury. "Oh, yes, how I would love to see the squishy reduced to fireworks…." He chuckled, until his gaze locked onto the device Lawrence held in his hand, and he lunged for it with one outstretched arm. "Let's do it now, Lawrence!"

The robot pulled the remote out of his reach. "Come to think of it, I still have some dusting I simply _must_ get back to." He turned towards the doorway with a wave of his hand. "Ta-ta!"

* * *

><p>"Come on, Clank, let's find our stuff and get out of here," Ratchet said once he was certain the portly butler was out of hearing range.<p>

That was easier said than done, however, as it seemed Lawrence was far better at hiding things on short notice than Ratchet thought possible, and the two of them spent a good several hours searching about the dank and musty facility, Clank taking charge of the lower places while Ratchet did the higher up, but by the time evening was approaching, they found themselves back where they had started, in a leaky kitchen set next to a living area with a rather damp and tattered, old couch, and they were left with no choice but to repeat the process in a manner twice as thorough as the first time. At this point, Ratchet would have scraped the paint off the walls, which wouldn't have been so hard, really, the way it bubbled and swelled with the damp, if he had thought there was any chance it would yield results.

As Ratchet made his third sweep of the kitchen, he banged his head on the underside of a cabinet at the sound of a door opening behind him, but when his gaze jerked back in the direction of the noise, all that met his eyes was the sight of a still dripping Ophelia peeking through the doorway.

He sighed. "This day just keeps getting better and better…."

"Hey, I've been looking all over for you two," she said as she sauntered into the room and planted her hands on her hips to stare at him in a manner that suggested _he_ was the one who had ran off and disappeared for hours.

"What do you mean _you've_ been looking for _us_? _We've_ been looking for _you_," Ratchet said as he jabbed a finger in her direction. At least, for a short while they did. That still counted. "Where have you been?"

"Me? Oh, I've been here." She began to wring her hair out into a pot that had been downgraded to the duty of raindrop collection.

Clank crawled out from beneath the couch with lint clinging to his antenna. "Ophelia, does Dr. Nefarious know you have been here all this time?"

"I never said you had to be _that_ thorough," Ratchet said as the little robot went about wiping the dust from himself with both hands.

"Who?" Ophelia asked as she dropped herself onto the side of the couch that appeared to have been less dripped on.

"I guess not." Ratchet turned back to his friend, who was still trying to wipe dust from his optics. "Well, we're not having any luck here, and it's getting late. Maybe we should head back to the ship and figure out what to do in the morning."

"But, there are perfectly good beds here," Ophelia said, her head swiveling to watch Ratchet as he stalked by with the heavy footfalls of someone who had had a rather trying day indeed. It was more than possible the sheer weight of the humidity in the air was slowing him down, as well. "And who is this Dr. Nefarious?"

"He is the one who sent the distress signal," Clank said.

"And you're not gonna help him?"

Ratchet slapped a hand to his face and spun back in her direction. "No, if the name _alone's_ anything to go by, no, we're not. And as for staying here, beds or not, the odds that Nefarious will try to kill us in our sleep is just a bit too high for my liking. _You_ can stay if you want, but I'm not. Come on, Clank."

As the robot followed him to the door, Ophelia sprang from the couch with frightening speed, her voice reaching an even higher pitch than ever before. "Hey, wait, I don't want to go out in the rain again."

"Then, don't," the Lombax shot back over his shoulder.

"But, I don't want to be left here, either."

"Ratchet?"

"Yeah, what is it, Clank?"

"I have been thinking, Dr. Nefarious arrived here by his attacker's ship. That could only mean it must be around here somewhere, and it might hold some clues to this person's identity or their intentions."

Ratchet knelt down and brushed off the dust bunny still clinging to his friend's antenna. "You know what, Clank, that's not a bad idea."

When he tried to stand again, he bumped into Ophelia, again proving all the more she lacked the need for personal space. Or the basic knowledge that _other_ people did.

"Why waste our time?" she asked, nearly whacking Ratchet in the face when she flung her arms out wide. "This…Nefarious guy, you'd think he would have already found everything worth finding. Right?"

"Yeah, well, self-proclaimed 'genius' or no, I wouldn't be surprised if he let a few things slip by him."

Still not finding the Lombax swayed by her logic, she tried a different approach. "But, it's _raining_ outside."

It was indeed, harder than ever, in fact, but Ophelia decided to follow, after all, despite multiple reminders from the Lombax that she didn't have to, and a nearly constant volley of complaints in between Clank's explanation of "just what the heck was going on", and the one bright part of a thoroughly dismal day was the fact that they actually managed to find the crashed ship just before nightfall, in a glade not terribly far from the building they had just left. The ship appeared to be in even worse condition than their own, and though Ratchet was certain it couldn't have been here all that long, the tendrils of vines and roots were already attempting to engulf it, as if nature itself was trying very hard to erase any evidence of something so foreign to it.

"This must be the ship Dr. Nefarious and Lawrence commandeered," Clank said, and with a little coaxing, Ophelia, the only one fortunate enough to still be armed, started hacking away at the vegetation with her knife, and once an entrance had been cleared to a proper degree, it took the effort of all three of them to pry the door open just enough so they could squeeze inside.

It was dark inside the ship, but enough light from the setting sun shown through the windshield where the vines had yet to cover, and they got to inspecting the small space, comprised of a cockpit and a larger section in back, Ophelia included, regardless of her earlier belief that such an endeavor was pointless.

"And _how_ did Lawrence manage to hide out in here?" Ratchet asked as Ophelia created quite a racket checking out all the storage compartments.

"Well, all the weapons appear to have been taken, just like I thought they'd be," she said. "I mean, I would assume there would've been weapons."

"Based on the presence of electrical field generators designed to separate the back from the cockpit, this ship appears to be from Zordoom Prison," Clank said as he climbed into the pilot seat and began pressing buttons on the console, "the kind used to transfer prisoners, in fact. But, I do not suspect it was a prison guard who is responsible for this."

The Lombax stopped behind his friend and rested one elbow on the back of the seat. "Find anything yet, buddy?"

"Why, yes, I believe I have located the pilot this ship was assigned to." But, when he pulled up the image on the screen, all they found was a fidgety looking Rilgarian.

"Yeah, well, _that's_ certainly not our guy."

Ophelia shoved Ratchet aside in an attempt to get a better look at the screen. "Lemme see, le- Oh, yeah, ew."

Effectively pushed from his spot, Ratchet retreated to Clank's side and sat against the console behind him with his arms crossed. "Anything else?"

"Let me see." The robot's eyes squinted in concentration. "I seem to have found the previously programmed coordinates—"

"Perfect!"

"-_and_ I have found a rather interesting file here, as well. It was created in the recent past, but it is encrypted."

"Well, can you decipher it?"

"I could try, but—"

"How do you know that's not just something from the guy before?" Ophelia asked.

Clank looked back at her. "This uses a very advanced encryption key. Plus, prison transport ships do not store sensitive information. It is too easy for them to be stolen, as this case proves." He turned back to the screen. "Unfortunately, I am not familiar with this form of encryption, and I cannot guarantee I would be able to decipher it."

Ophelia folded her arms on the back of the chair and rested her chin upon them. "It's probably nothing anyway."

"I am sure," the little robot continued, "that Dr. Nefarious would have no trouble deciphering this for us."

Ratchet buried his face in his hands. "Don't tell me we have to go back. Are you sure you can't do it? Or anyone else?"

"Or we can always not bother," the red-haired woman said with a flip of her hand as she turned to stroll back to the ship's exit.

"If anyone would be able to decipher it, it would be Dr. Nefarious. And if he wishes for us to help him, perhaps he would be more willing to return the favor."

"But, we're _not_ going to help him," Ratchet said, but his friend's attention had returned to the console.

"Anyone have a holo-disc? Never mind. I might just know where one is." Clank opened the compartment in his torso and pulled out the very object in question. "Found it."

"Secret Agent Clank indeed," Ophelia said, and the robot giggled, despite the absence of humor in her voice.

Clank downloaded the file onto the holo-disc, and then they were on their unmerry way back in the direction of Nefarious' makeshift base, and though Ratchet was in no rush to speak to the one they sought, it was the lowering sun that spurred them on despite these reservations. They arrived at the front door before the hour was up, but when the Lombax attempted to shove the door open, Clank halted him with a raised finger.

"I believe it would be more polite if we knocked."

"Are you kidding me?"

"We are asking Dr. Nefarious for help, not attempting to stop him from galactic domination."

"Yeah, and why don't we just ask them for a cup of sugar while we're at it?"

The little robot rapped on the door, and they waited, Ratchet occupying the time by crossing his arms and tapping one foot, while Ophelia pulled her mane of hair over one shoulder and attempted to wring it out in the still pouring rain.

The door opened at last to reveal Lawrence, who gazed at them with the usual bored disdain. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Yes," Clank began, "we found an encrypted file on the ship you arrived here by, and we were hoping Dr. Nefarious would decipher it for us."

The butler eyed Ophelia with a raised eyebrow, had he possessed any. "Wipe your feet before you come in, if you would be so kind. I only just mopped."

The three all looked at each other, but he didn't step aside until they had obeyed his wishes, Ophelia taking her shoes off entirely and leaving them on the doorstep before they entered, and Lawrence disappeared down the nearest hallway with a, "One moment, please."

"I get warts when my feet are wet," Ophelia told Ratchet, who frowned at having such a personal detail shared with him, though she didn't seem to catch the expression when she was too busy staring at her feet as she wiggled her toes.

"I see you've returned, squishy," came the usual harsh voice of Dr. Nefarious as he marched into the room with his hands folded behind his back. "You came crawling back sooner than I expected."

Ophelia, whose mouth had fallen open upon the scientist's arrival, uttered a soft, "That's certainly a noggin."

Nefarious aimed a leer in her direction, irritation outweighing any surprise he may have otherwise felt at the presence of a fifth in the room. "And who the heck is _this_ twit? Don't tell me there are _three_ of you now!"

"She's just a stray we picked up," Ratchet said.

"_Excuse_ me?"

The Lombax took the holo-disc that Clank held up and stepped forward. "Not that I'd like to start making a habit of asking my enemies for help, but…we need you to decipher this for us."

The scientist extended a hand, palm up. "Well, hand it over, then."

"We found it—"

"Yeah, yeah, Lawrence already told me. Now give it here!" Dr. Nefarious snatched the disc away. "Why didn't _you_ think to look in the ship's databanks, Lawrence?"

"I did, sir. And then you called me an 'idiot'."

The scientist sniggered. "Oh, yes, I did. And it's _still_ funny."

Ratchet cleared his throat. "Uh, so…how long is this going to take?"

Nefarious spun on his heel in a most theatrical fashion to march back towards the hallway in exaggerated steps. "Patience, Lombax. You can't rush genius," the scientist said. "More coffee, Lawrence. It's going to be a late night."

* * *

><p>I've made Nefarious a bit paranoid in this. And by the way, I once wrote a short story about Nefarious and Lawrence that took place on this same planet, but the story was so dreadful, I had to abandon it. Nevertheless, the planet itself wasn't such a bad idea, and so it now makes its appearance in this novel. I thought that was an interesting little tidbit, wouldn't you say?<p>

And Skidd was from Rilgar, I think, so that's the species I had in mind for the prison guard. I dunno know. I just chose something.

Please review, dear squishies, while you wait for chapter 4, whenever that happens.


	4. Chapter 4: A Dark and Stormy Night

Sorry for the crazy long wait, but the newest chapter is finally here. I wasn't super pleased with it, but I think all the editing has made it far better than it used to be, at least.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4: It Was a Dark and Stormy Night<strong>

With the sun now gone and a glance out the window all Ratchet needed to remind him just how dark it was at night on this absurdly rainy planet, he was given no other choice but to remain indoors and bide as much time as he could before he would inevitably have to go to bed in the same building as someone who had tried on more than one occasion to kill him, an unsettling thought had there _not_ been an ominous lightning storm going on outside. There was a reason most horror stories began with, "It was a dark and stormy night," before everyone was inevitably butchered or never heard from again. In fact, it was more than possible this planet was the origin of the phrase.

And yet, what probably got to him most of all, even above being stranded on a planet far away from home, unarmed, and with the disturbing possibility that the drumbeat of raindrops would become permanently embedded in his subconscious, was the fact that everyone else seemed so casual about the whole, nightmarish matter they had all found themselves in.

Clank had since perched himself on a stool at the kitchen counter, looking as if he was merely waiting for dinner to be served, had he even needed sustenance to begin with, while Ophelia was lying sprawled across the damp sofa and twirling her hair with one finger while one leg hung off the side in such a relaxed manner, one would think it was solely for comfort and not to avoid the leak in the ceiling above. And Ratchet was stuck sitting in a dusty, old armchair that smelled like it was filled with mothballs, but which he would've preferred over what the source of the smell must really be, while he had the pleasure of keeping himself occupied with his newly found pastime of shivering, despite the arms wrapped about himself. Yes, what bothered him to the degree that he had only stopped gnawing on his lower lip when it had begun to throb too much, was that he was the _only_ one bothered. And the only one left that was still sane, it would seem.

With the drips of rain in the bucket beside him reminding him too much of a ticking clock and all the time he was, and had been, wasting, and without the ability to tolerate it for any longer, the Lombax finally stood, and he sighed in anticipation of what he was just about to say. "Okay, where are those beds you were talking about?"

With verbal communication seeming to be beyond her at the moment, the current occupant of the galaxy's dampest couch shook an index finger in the direction of one dark hallway that didn't look all that inviting.

Ratchet's shoulders sagged. "Right. You coming, Clank?"

"Certainly," the little robot said, as if jumping down from the stool wasn't answer enough.

The two ventured into the hallway, the walls of which Ratchet had to feel along once his attempts at illuminating the corridor had failed after the lights had sparked in a most dangerous manner seconds after turning them on, and he managed to find several doors, each of which led to a cramped bedroom, such details only made known to him whenever the rooms were lit by the flashes of lightning outside. Unable to examine the rooms except in brief bursts, the Lombax eventually chose one completely at random, and once they were inside, he locked the door before feeling around for a chair to prop under the doorknob.

"This place seems like it might have once been some kind of research facility," Clank said, as Ratchet backed into the bed quite by accident and fell backwards onto it, causing him to realize he had picked a room with a waterbed when the surface heaved like a disturbed lake. There was nothing like inducing nightmares of drowning to get a good night's rest, was there?

"What could they possibly research here?" Ratchet asked as he started to feel a twinge of seasickness coming on, and his stomach grumbled. Oh, right, he hadn't eaten since that morning, had he? It was probably for the best.… "Let me guess," he continued, "this is where they confirmed that plants prefer it when you water them."

"Actually, the field of botany is far more complex than you might think. In fact—"

"No, offense, Clank, but I'm _really_ not interested right now." The Lombax started when a crash of thunder rumbled outside, the proceeding lightning doing a fine job of wiping out his newly acquired night vision, and after putting half an effort into turning onto his side, he decided against it when the surface of the bed churned again beneath him. He sighed. "It was a strange one today, wasn't it, Clank?"

"It most certainly was."

Ratchet glanced to the side, the darkness reducing his friend to an eerier pair of glowing, green eyes that appeared to be floating a short distance off the ground, which would have truly been an unsettling sight had he not known whom they belonged to.

"You can come up here, you know. I didn't expect you to sleep on the floor."

"Robots do not require sleep, Ratchet," Clank said, but the glowing orbs drifted over in the Lombax's direction, nonetheless, disappearing for a second or two before the robot climbed up onto the bed. "And yet, I suppose I _could_ use some rest. Even if this bed seems rather unstable." The robot pressed on the bed with one foot, causing more ripples in its surface.

"Would you cut that out? I'm feeling nauseous enough as it is."

The waterbed continued to jiggle, however, as Clank attempted to walk across it on footsteps as light as he could manage before lowering himself into a sitting position nearby.

"Ratchet," the little robot began, concern slanting his eyes, "do you find Ophelia rather…odd?"

The Lombax dared enough movement to fold his hands beneath his head. "_Do_ I? Well, _yeah_. I take it you do, too?"

"I am sure it is simply because we have not known her for very long, but I just…" His green eyes shook from side to side in the darkness.

"What? You just _what_?"

"It is nothing. There is just something about her that…bothers me."

"Really? And this is coming from the one who trusted Captain Qwark back when he was an even bigger sleaze-bag than he is now."

"Keep it mind that only happened shortly after I was created."

"Yeah, I know." Ratchet grinned, even if it couldn't be certain whether or not the robot could even catch it. "Well, I'm just glad you've become a little more cautious. I—" With more urgent thoughts pushing their way into his attention, the Lombax fought against the waterbed in his efforts to sit up again, uncaring of the waves he was creating beneath him, until he had successfully propped himself up with his hands. "And speaking of being cautious, what do you think Nefarious is up to? Why do you think he contacted _us_ for help?"

"Well, we did help each other on Magnus—"

"Yeah, but only out of necessity. We certainty didn't go _seeking_ the other out."

"Well…" The robot's eyes tilted to the side as he thought this over. "We _have_ defeated Dr. Nefarious numerous times in the past. If anyone was capable of helping him track down the one responsible for turning him back into an organic, it could very well be us."

"Yeah, and all the more reason he is far more likely to _murder_ us," he jabbed a thumb at his chest to indicate just who would be the most likely target of such an act, considering organics were the ones most prone to the crime, "than to call us for help."

"Ratchet, while I cannot say what goes on in Dr. Nefarious' mind, I do know it would be unwise for him to kill the only ones who can help him off this planet. From what I observed, their ship did not even have enough fuel left to leave this planet's atmosphere, and stealing Aphelion is also out of the question due to her security safeguards."

Ratchet's eyes narrowed in thought. "Yeah, and so what's stopping him from killing us and stealing _our_ fuel?"

Clank grew silent, before responding with a simple, "I do not know."

"That's right, we _don't_." The Lombax fell back onto the bed, only to regret it a second later at the miniature storm he had set into motion, literally, beneath him. "We don't know what he's planning or who attacked his space station, or what _that_ person's even up to." He sighed. "I just hope I have the right parts to repair the ship."

The small robot considered him with half-lidded optics. "I am sure you will figure something out. You _are_ a mechanic, after all."

"Yeah." Ratchet's mouth twisted into half a grin, the best he could manage under their current circumstances. "The best darn Lombax mechanic out there."

Clank giggled.

Without even meaning to, a long yawn escaped him. "Well, I guess that's a sign we should probably get some rest. Night, Clank."

"Goodnight, Ratchet."

* * *

><p>Ratchet awoke the next morning with a raw ache in his stomach whose grumbles he at first mistook for the thunder outside until he realized they were coming from <em>inside<em> him rather than out, and it wasn't until now, with the grey light of morning shining through the single window, that he noticed that this room was decorated with a copious amount of Courtney Gears posters in various, provocative poses. Apparently, finding that the pop star had been sided with Nefarious wasn't enough to deter _this_ fan, but then again, she also hadn't tried to kill them, either. Nowadays, it seemed the list of people that _hadn't_ tried to murder him had grown shorter than the list of those that had.

Once he managed to roll out of a bed that had been trying all night to swallow him up, he tore down these reminders of the past and stuffed the crumpled balls they had been reduced to into the trash bin. Clank, come to think of it, was nowhere to be found, and he shuffled out of the now unlocked door, grateful to still be alive after spending a night not a terrible distance from the most sinister villain in the galaxy, though his survival would count for naught if he didn't get something to eat, and soon.

When he arrived in the kitchen, he found the small robot standing on a stool in order to more easily slice apart several fruit he had on a plate beside the sink, and Ratchet attempted to hold back a yawn as he approached his friend. "Where'd you get that?" He stopped beside the robot and rested an elbow on the counter.

"Ophelia told me about a fruit that might be more edible, so I took the liberty of gathering the few I could reach before you got up."

"Clank, you're going to rust going out in the rain. And why didn't Ophelia just bring us back some food?"

"I do not know. She did return this morning with a great deal of fruit in her arms, but she brought it all to her room, and I have not seen her since." The robot slid the plate to his friend. "I know this is not much, but it will have to do for now."

The Lombax's gaze dropped to the glistening, white fruit slices set before him, dotted with slimy, black seeds. It didn't appear to be the most appetizing thing in the galaxy, but he supposed now wasn't a time to be picky. "Thanks, buddy."

"You are quite welcome." Clank rinsed the knife off in the sink, while Ratchet picked up one piece of fruit and inspected it. He gave it a sniff and drew back at the most peculiar scent of sour meat. With a sigh, he took a bite, and he almost gagged at a taste that could only be described as putrid in flavor form.

"I take it you do not like it?"

"No, uh…it-it's fine." Resisting the urge to vomit, the Lombax swallowed and found that his breakfast also had the unfortunate side effect of leaving a slimy film down the back of his throat. Yippee.

He managed to choke down only a third of what lay on the plate (to be honest, the plate itself would've been preferable), and he left the rest in a small container for later, lest he found nothing better by lunch, which surely wouldn't be the case if he managed to catch some of those toothy toads or reduced himself to eating leaves like an Oozlian lochback.

With his belly still growling at him, as much from offense as from hunger, the pair set out, armed with nothing more than the Lombax's trusty wrench and an equally as potent foul mood. The rain was as heavy as ever, and the clouds hung so low in the sky, he almost thought the trees would pierce right through them. The toads tracked them down with a vengeance, which Ratchet beat away with his wrench, and while this was effective enough, he couldn't help but wish for the return of his firearms when a tall and spindly bush lunged for him. A few good whacks to its…branches, and he was running for his life, and he never again doubted himself when he suspected the ferns and the trees to be watching him.

They arrived back at Aphelion after several hours of trudging and splashing through the soaked and soggy landscape, Ratchet now twice as muddied as he had been that morning, even considering he had neglected to bathe the night before. The smoke that had been rising from the ship's fried, right wing had long been extinguished by the downpour, but that was the only improvement he could find as he did a thorough inspection about her surface.

Dents and cracks were prevalent, but the worst of it was the wing the lightning had struck, and it was here that he found exposed wiring and circuitry which had no business getting as wet as they were. Before he could attempt any kind of repair, he would need some method of getting her inner workings dry again. And though she had only been left here for just over a day, leafy tendrils were already working their way up her landing gear, forcing the Lombax to slow their encroachment by ripping them from their purchase.

Without further delay, Ratchet retrieved the tools he kept in Aphelion's storage compartment for the very purpose of emergency repairs, but any attempts at such an endeavor were forgone after the first few minutes of tools slipping in the downpour and having to blink away a constant stream of rainwater that got into his eyes, and the two of them returned to the abandoned facility not a long while later, no sign of Ophelia present, or even the two he wished to see even less, for that matter, and they retreated to their room, Ratchet shivering as he took a better survey of what tools he had available to him, while Clank sought out towels.

It was in the middle of drying off that the Lombax caught his friend's gaze turn to the doorway, and he looked back from where they sat on the floor, a preferable place to be when the churning tempest that was the waterbed was still just as unkind to Ratchet's stomach as ever, empty or not.

Ophelia's lips pulled back in a grin as she caught sight of just how much the towel had managed to puff up Ratchet's fur, though his own facial expression was quite the opposite. And it wasn't as if the moisture had shown any more mercy to _her_ hair, which had fallen victim to a level of frizz that made her look as if she had intercepted a lightning strike.

"Yeah, what is it?" the Lombax asked, turning away as he continued to wipe down his long ears.

"What are you guys up to?"

"We're just trying to get the ship repaired." He glanced back over his shoulder when she pounced upon the bed. "And you're welcome to help us. We need tarps to keep Aphelion dry."

She laid on her stomach and curled her legs up behind her. "You're not going to leave before Nefarious finishes deciphering that file, are you?"

"No, but fixing the ship's going to take time, so I might as well get started." Drying complete, Ratchet wrapped the towel around his still shivering form.

"And then you're still going to leave without him?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

"Ophelia," Clank began, "Dr. Nefarious is a dangerous criminal. If we _did_ bring Lawrence and him with us, it would be our responsibility to take them to Zordoom Prison. While I am not as willing to abandon them here—"

"Hey!"

"-I still agree with Ratchet that we cannot help them. It is up to the _authorities_—"

"Like _they_ ever lift a finger."

"-to seek out the one responsible for the attack on Dr. Nefarious' space station."

"Yeah, and you _do_ know that _we_," the Lombax jabbed his chest with one forefinger, "are going to be the ones volunteered to track down this wacko, right?"

"Why, of course. I was merely saying it was the authorities' job to take care of this. I did not say they would actually do it."

"Do _that_, then."

The Lombax looked back. "Huh?"

"Take them to prison, then," Ophelia said, her eyes taking on a hardness not characteristic of them.

Ratchet opened and closed his mouth several times in response to this change, and he was unable to speak until his mind could better wrap around her sudden reversal in attitude regarding the fate of the mad scientist. "I-I don't understand you. First you tell us to help them, then you say throw them in jail. It will be _more_ merciful to leave them here."

"But, if that's what they deserve." She rolled onto her back and knitted her fingers together over her stomach, her demeanor turning casual just like that, even if her words belied the relaxed nature she had since returned to.

Ratchet turned to face her more fully. "You know what, _I'm_ the one stuck piloting the ship, so _I_ think I should also be the one to decide who comes with us. I gave in enough letting—"

"Ratchet."

Ophelia's head rolled to the side to direct an arched eyebrow at him, and he looked away, only to find himself facing a very stern-looking robot. Ratchet rolled his eyes. "Oh, give me a break!" He stood, pulling the towel from his shoulders and balling it up. "I think I need a walk," he said when it seemed there was little chance of winning in this conversation, especially when one of those he was currently stuck speaking to kept changing their opinion, and he tossed the towel aside and stalked out of the room as Clank's voice followed him through the doorway to call his name, but he merely doubled his pace.

As expected, it didn't take him long to end up in unfamiliar territory, and he began to find himself in various dark labs, the living quarters left far behind. He found desks bearing old computers and messy piles of notes on which was scribbled equations and shorthand he could only guess at and which, upon closer inspection, appeared to be covered in a curious layer of yellow dust, and he found test tubes and microscopes and other instruments of science left about, as if someone still intended to return to them, along with withered plants in pots that had been long left neglected, and he cringed at a moist and rotten kind of scent of decaying plant life, but with a twinge of something else. It was the smell of old experiments left to die.

After further wandering, however, it seemed not all of the experiments had suffered the same fate, a fact Ratchet found, to his great dismay, when he opened a door to discover a churning mass of vines and flowers of scaled petals overtaking the back half of the room, where a fallen tree had crashed through the roof and let the rainwater in. Needless to say, once the monstrosity began to reach for him, he closed the door and left the scene with all due haste.

As the Lombax made his way through the murky gloom of a maze of rooms that had seen better days and whose humidity level almost seemed to rival that of outside, his fur began to fall victim to an impending fluffiness he hoped would calm down before he ran into anyone who might wish to mock him, namely, everyone but Clank, and, propelled by curiosity and a desire to simply go onward, along with a growing concern that he wouldn't be able to find his way back again anyway, he came upon further evidence than ever of the planet's efforts to return this place to nature.

Roots and vines hung down in tendrils through dripping holes in the ceiling, some of the damage surely caused by a fire based on the blackened rafters surrounding them, while some rooms had flooded where the floor had sunken in, and he found an entire wing slanting at a dangerous angle that he didn't dare enter. But, what stopped him most of all was one particular set of double doors that stood out from all the others, for this was the only one he had found that was barricaded shut with several mops and brooms, cracked nearly in half, that had been stuck through the door handles, the unsettling scene made even more so due to the tables and chairs and whatever other pieces of furniture the former occupants of this place had thought fit to press up against it.

The Lombax padded closer to inspect the blocked door, and he stepped carefully around the mess of chair and table legs until he was able to press his face to the narrow windows in the doors' surface, and he could just catch a few indistinguishable shadows through the mist that had collected on the windowpanes. He drew back, and his eyes moved to a long crack that ran nearly the entire height of the door, and he traced one finger along it.

"That wasn't there when we arrived, you know."

It was a miracle Ratchet remained upright, though he did create quite a racket as he tripped and crashed through the jumble of furniture he had cornered himself in, and once free, he flung his back to the nearest wall, chest heaving, only to find nothing more than the squat form of Lawrence watching him with half-lidded optics.

"I'm sorry, did I startle you?" the butler asked, even if he knew full well the answer.

"N-no, but…what are you even doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

When it seemed that was all the answer that would be offered him, Ratchet slid down the wall behind him until he was sitting on the floor, and he draped his arms over his knees. "Hey, uh…Lawrence," he looked over as the butler in question drew nearer to do his own inspection of the state of the barricade. "you're not, well, insane, I think, so I guess I may as well ask…you can't possibly think we would actually work with you two? Do you?"

"Absolutely not."

"So, why bring us here?"

The butler's blue gaze turned to him, all the more obvious in the gloom, only to leave him a moment later when the robot turned away with a shrug.

"Oh, come on! I'm sure you know Nefarious' reasoning," Ratchet said, following the robot with his eyes until Lawrence turned back to him upon reaching a less cluttered section of the room and folded his hands over his ample stomach. "Why _us_? Why not some other poor, unsuspecting idiot?"

"Sending a signal in Lombax was the only way to control who would respond. It's not terribly easy to be picky with a…distress signal otherwise," the butler said quite simply.

For a reason Ratchet couldn't quite explain, his shoulders sagged, and he asked, "So…it has nothing to do with us, after all?"

"Of course, it does." Lawrence sighed. "Don't tell him I said this—"

"No problem."

"-but, frankly, it is a rather low place to be for a…supposed…'supervillain', though, I must say, 'super' is a tad overdoing it—"

"Yeah, yeah…"

"-not to mention 'villain'—"

"Okay, I get it!"

Lawrence mimicked clearing his throat. "Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, it is a low place when one has no one to turn to but one's own enemies. Normally, I'm the one stuck bailing him out of trouble after he gets himself locked in closets or reduced to a dismembered head, you know, the usual, but now—"

"We're all you could think of?"

The butler inclined his head in a single nod. "Precisely."

"But," Ratchet returned to his feet, "doesn't he have _anyone_ out there that would even be _remotely_ willing to help him?"

"Believe it or not, he's not terribly popular."

"And…why can't he help himself? _He's_ the one who claims to be a genius," the Lombax said, striding by on his way to have a look out the windows. He could really use some fresh air in this musty, old place, even if merely _gazing_ upon fresh air was the closest thing he could manage at the moment.

"At least, as rumor would have it," Lawrence said under his breath, but certainly loud enough for the Lombax to catch, and his voice picked up again as he continued, "Well, you see, there's not a great deal we can do. We have no means of escape, and even then, we'd be hard pressed to get on our feet again. You must understand, it has been rather hard on him to have been returned to his previous form, even more so than the loss of his space station, I think. Of course, that happens so often, it's really something he should be used to by now."

"Well, he won't be getting any sympathy from me." Ratchet stopped by the window and looked back. "And it's not _that_ bad being a…uh…'squishy'," he finished, mimicking quotation marks with his fingers.

"Apparently he doesn't share your sentiments."

"Obviously." The Lombax pulled up the slats of the blinds to peek outside, only to draw back at what met his eyes. "I can't believe it! It _still_ raining?"

"It's been raining the entire time we've been here, I'm afraid."

Ratchet directed a wide-eyed gaze back at the robot behind him. "What? Are you kidding me? How are we _ever_ going to get off this planet if there's a never ending lightning storm outside?"

"How should _I_ know? I'm just here to do the dusting and the laundry."

The Lombax ran his hands over his face. "Well, what ever happened to the people that used to be here? Because I have a sneaking suspicion they didn't simply get bored and leave."

"We never found any sign of them. We did, however, manage to locate a few logs pertaining to their final days. It's not as thorough as we would have liked, but I suppose the throes of death is not always a convenient time to write a journal entry."

Lawrence gestured for him to follow, and Ratchet obeyed as the robot continued, "Apparently, a group of the more…cowardly members of the team attempted to escape on their only ship, which resulted in them careening off the side of the mountain when they were struck by lightning. Can't say it was _entirely_ undeserved." They stopped before a computer, and Lawrence bent over the keyboard as he began searching its files. "The facility is powered by the electricity gathered by the lightning strikes, whatever didn't yet short-circuit from the rainwater, that is. In case you were curious."

"Huh."

"Or not. Anyway, you can read it for yourself. They'd know what happened better than I would. Plus, it's about time for my employer's next dose of cold medicine. What fun."

Ratchet snorted. "Yeah, good luck on that."

Lawrence headed for the door as the Lombax sat down to scroll through the logs, and his eyebrows lowered as he made a quick scan of the files before him. "Lawrence, the last entry is dated only about a month before you guys got here."

The robotic butler stopped in the doorway. "I know."

* * *

><p>Not my best chapter, but I hope you guys still enjoyed it. Ophelia's weird, though. And that Oozlian creature thingy I mentioned was just a name I made up for those weird creatures in Going Commando on Planet Oozla. You know, the ones where you'd jump on their back, and they'd panic and swim around. That was the best cruddy name I could come up with on such short notice.<p>

Please review as you wait for my lazy behind to get chapter 5 done.


	5. Chapter 5: You Can Read My Mind

Hey, I think this might've been the quickest update in a while. I'm currently working on two novels at once, and I've finally developed quite an effective system. Let's see how long it lasts. And I love thinking up chapter titles for this story, by the way.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5: It's Like You Can Read My Mind<strong>

Ratchet spent the next several hours skimming over the logs of the team whose presence was now absent from this cold and eerie place (while a morbid envy crept into his mind before he could push it back), and yet he found little evidence of what had become of them all. They detailed countless experiments, including multiple mentions of injuries related to the sentient plant life, bites, acid burns, poisonous spores, and all manner of other fun things, courtesy of the plants native to the region and those they had altered through genetic experimentation, along with their, surprisingly, failed attempts at growing vegetables due to the soil here being _too_ wet for their crops, an even more unfortunate finding when coupled with their realization that the supply ships couldn't break through the barrier of clouds. It was a miracle their own ship had made it through, they said, though he had his doubts "miracle" was really the right word for it.

Aside from learning more of what he already knew and adding to his growing list of "painful ways he might die soon", Ratchet could find no more, as the logs eventually devolved into hysteria before the Lombax could make out how they had met their end in such a manner so as not to leave any trace. And as hard as he tried to make sense of the gibberish ramblings of one Professor Bertrim, AKA "one of the last", he couldn't find any clear description of what they "had locked in the greenhouse". Based on the mental state of those who had imprisoned it, he wasn't sure he really _wanted_ to know, either.

Once he could take no more of what he feared was a glimpse into his own future, the Lombax remained just a little while longer to seek out any supplies that would aid him in the repairs of his ship, including a few tarps and other tools that might come in handy, before deciding it was time to head back when he took notice of the curious feeling of being watched by something that probably didn't even have eyes. With that, he scrambled back in the direction of the living quarters, his added haste quite fortunate, as when he finally reached his friend in the living room, the little robot was looking on in horror as Ophelia insisted to him that the warts on her feet were coming back.

Clank seemed quite grateful at the rescue, even if it meant another trek out into the rain so Ratchet could try his best to put a makeshift tent up around Aphelion, only to have one corner or another jerk free of their tethers at every gust of wind. Eventually, he succeeded in pinning the tarp around the battered ship, though he still couldn't begin his repairs due to Clank's insistence that it was far too dangerous to work on live circuits while still wet, to which the Lombax argued that it couldn't be any worse than wielding metal in a lightning storm, an admission that only served to prove the little robot's point further. They headed promptly back to the research facility once lightning struck just a bit too close for either of their liking, and they were reminded, in Clank's case, just how dangerous it was _being_ metal in a lightning storm.

Upon their return, they entered the living quarters to catch Ophelia in the middle of explaining her wart situation to Lawrence as he switched out overflowing buckets and pots and trash bins with empty ones, a ritual Ratchet believed firmly to be a losing battle, and he caught the butler's eyes narrow at the trail of mud he had tracked in. Clank had possessed the courtesy to wipe his feet before they entered, but he had been unable to convince the Lombax on the merits of showing good manners to your enemies. Frankly, he couldn't understand why Lawrence would care to begin with when a little bit of mud surely paled in comparison to a leaking ceiling and roots growing through the floor, though, he also couldn't figure out just what the big deal moisture rings on the coffee table was, either. It would make his life so much easier if he didn't have to aim for coasters every time he put his drink down, but Clank could be very stern when he chose to be.

"Are you _seeing_ this? I think a wart is actually starting to grow on top of _another_ wart," Ophelia said, but Lawrence merely eyed her before retrieving a mop from the closet nearby. At least he would have no trouble finding a bucket of water. Finding her plea ignored, she aimed the bottom of her foot at the two newcomers, and Ratchet drew back in disgust.

"I don't want to see that!"

"You think _that's_ bad," Lawrence said as he began his mopping. "Now that my employer is organic again, he's back to demanding foot massages."

Ratchet's eyes dropped to his muddy boot prints, but he remained silent despite the slightest twinge of guilt. When he turned back, he found Clank inspecting Ophelia's shriveled, damp foot with obvious apprehension.

"You really should get that looked at," the diminutive robot said. "For now, I suggest keeping it as dry as possible."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Lawrence said from behind them. Ratchet glared at him. Then again, maybe he had merely mistaken guilt for hunger. He headed over to the kitchen and opened the cabinets, as if they would somehow be less empty now than they were this morning.

"How come there is absolutely no food in here?" the Lombax asked as he glared down at a withered cockroach lying on its back with its legs curled pitifully, like some kind of cruel challenge to the famished mechanic.

"There was scarcely any left when we got here. Nothing but a few stunted vegetables they harvested before the greenhouse was sealed," Lawrence said. "Forgive me if I neglected to save any for your arrival."

"So what's Nefarious been eating since then?"

The robotic butler dunked the end of the mop in the nearest bucket without a care to face the one he was addressing. "Are you asking what I've _actually_ been giving him or what I've been _telling_ him it is?"

"Uh…never mind."

Looking none perturbed at such an admission, as vague as it was, Lawrence merely shrugged and returned to his work, and Ratchet grabbed the container housing the fruit he had tried to choke down earlier. Let's see if his gag reflex was still working. With any luck, he had lost the use of his taste buds, as well.

Retiring to the moldy armchair, a bit of stuffing flying out of a hole in its side as he sat, the Lombax got to work on his meal, and he had to look away from Ophelia and her surely infected couch when the sight of her bare feet threatened to kill what little appetite he had left. Clank retreated to a seat of his own once his examination of her was complete, even if she wasn't yet done poking and prodding at her toes with a morbid fascination.

"So, Lawrence, when is Nefarious going to be done with those files?" Ratchet asked as one eye squinted shut of its own accord as he tried to swallow his meager snack.

"I really couldn't say." His work complete, the butler proceeded to wring the mop out over the bucket.

"Do you really not know or do you just not want to tell us?"

"The latter."

Ratchet let out a deep breath, a sour frown equal parts dismay and a very strong urge to vomit, as the butler walked by. He shoved another piece of fruit into his mouth, the rain continuing, as always, its ceaseless patter outside.

* * *

><p>Over the next few days, Ratchet alternated between working on Aphelion's repairs during the day and biding his time at night on an armchair whose cushions were getting flatter each time he sat on them. He began to spend much of his time alone ever since telling Clank about the logs and the sealed door in the labs, spurring the little robot to spend his days on more scholarly ventures involving further research into the team's disappearance, while Ophelia was off doing whatever it was she did, ironic, really, when she had taken to complaining about feeling left out.<p>

But, Ratchet certainly couldn't be faulted for having little interest in what either were up to, as his greatest concern, aside from escaping this planet without any blaster wounds or electrocutions, was food, plain and simple. He had tried various other kinds of fruits, and he had even taken back a few toads to cook on the stove, which he found to be akin to chewing on a rubber ball. A rubber ball with warts, reminding him a bit too much of a certain someone's feet. He vowed to never try toad again, no matter how dire the circumstance and no matter how much the foul creatures deserved it.

As a result, Ratchet found himself with a constantly grumbling stomach, which, when combined with being wet and cold, turned him into a constantly grumbling Lombax and made it rather fortunate he _was_ left to himself most of the time, as he didn't have the best attitude towards company right now.

But, after a solid week with nothing decent to satiate his very unhappy stomach, it made him wonder just what Ophelia had been eating all this time and why he had seen so little of her, and he got up from his fungus-riddled armchair one evening and headed without further delay down the hallway. He found the door to her room to be closed, but when he knocked, he heard no answer, and jiggling the doorknob proved it to be locked.

Ratchet's eyes narrowed. "Ophelia, open up. I…uh…just want to talk to you."

"I'm getting changed," came a sing-song voice from within.

"I'll wait."

He did indeed, and when he thought he had given her more than enough time for this, he knocked again.

"Still na-ked!"

Ratchet cringed. "Well, hurry up already!"

"What do you want to talk about?"

"I'm not talking to you through the door."

"Why not?"

"B-because. Just open the door, okay?"

He heard a click, and the door squeaked open on rusty hinges just enough to reveal an eye. "Yes?"

"You're fully clothed behind there, right?"

She nodded.

"Well…can I come in?"

"It's certainly possible."

Ratchet rolled his eyes. And yet, despite the absurdity of the situation, it was not at all lost to him that her face had taken on a dead seriousness that failed to match her words, a fact he would have normally heeded if his stomach wasn't currently in control of his common sense. "You know, _you're_ the one who claims we leave you out, but if you're going to hide away in your room all the time, _maybe_ that would explain it," the Lombax said, and when she still refused to budge, he pushed on the door.

"No, you stay out!" She pushed back, but, goaded on by a ravenous stomach and the scent of food wafting from within, he shoved harder until she abandoned her post at the door to flee to the back corner of her room, but it was too late, for as he stepped through the doorway, he had already caught sight of the source of the smell, a pile of food she had hoarded, nuts and ripe fruit that looked far more appetizing than what he had yet to find and the mere scent of it sending his hunger pangs into a veritable fit.

"How long have you had all of this?" Ratchet asked, but she merely hovered closer over her secret stash as he drew nearer, a snarl twisting his lips. "You have bananas, normal, perfectly edible bananas. And…is that a dead chicken? I've been starving, and you've been…eating chicken sandwiches!"

"Get out."

"No!"

"Get out!"

"Not until you—" His words, and his advance, were halted when he caught her reach behind her back.

"Get out of here!" Ophelia repeated, her eyes narrowing, and he was almost surprised her hackles weren't rising like an enraged hound.

It was now Ratchet's turn to retreat, and he stepped backwards with both hands up in front of him in what should have been the universal sign of surrender, though he had his doubts she had gotten the memo. "Hey, there's no need for that. If you-if you take out your knife again, I-" His hands dropped so they could feel about behind him, his search ending when he remembered he had left his wrench in the living room. He sighed. "All right. I'm going."

She continued to follow him, however, her pursuit increasing in speed and spurring on the sprint that took him out the doorway and down the corridor. A glance back to ensure she was no longer gaining on him told him that she had, in fact, stopped in the doorway to leer out at him, and once he was a safe distance down the hallway, if any distance from her could be considered safe (while it occurred to him that she might be capable of throwing her knife, as well, if she hadn't merely been reaching for a blaster this time), he called back over his shoulder, "Good luck finding another ship to take you off this planet because you're not coming with us!" And he didn't care what Clank said.

* * *

><p>Ratchet found his usual dinner of bitter fruit and some strange-looking tubers he had dug out of the ground yesterday to have become twice as appetizing after the feast (it <em>was<em> a feast if you were as depraved as he was) Ophelia had been dining on, and after he could take no more of staring at the thick, white roots that appeared to be covered in a thin layer of short, brown hair, he set his meal aside to focus instead on some grumbling, a new pastime of his that he had been turning to more and more lately, and he was really getting into it when his two-time assailant appeared in the room with what he was sure she intended as guilt on her face. But, he wasn't buying it.

"I'm sor—"

Ratchet shot up from his slouch. He had to be ready to flee again if it came down to it, though, at this point, he was more or less willing to fight her tooth and nail just to get one bite of that chicken she had been denying him, and he couldn't guarantee he'd be patient enough to cook it first. "No, absolutely not," he began, "you can't keep threatening me, then expect me to forgive you!"

"Yeah, I know," was all she could say, and the Lombax wrapped his arms tightly about himself, his wrench safely within arm's reach if he found she needed a good bludgeoning, and she probably did, and he followed her with his gaze as she moved to sit in Clank's usual spot. He better not make any mention of this minor theft, however, lest _that_ was something she'd find he needed a good stabbing over, too.

"I know we have gotten off to a less than ideal start," she told the floor.

"Yeah, ya think?"

She glanced back over at him, and he turned away. "And I-I want us to get along, I really do, and…and maybe it would help if we got to know each other better."

"Uh, no, warts and an obvious homicidal streak, I think I know all I could ever want."

"You don't trust me, I take it."

"Gee, wherever did you get _that_ ide-" The words froze in his throat when she took out a knife, and she merely grinned at the Lombax's sudden silence.

"Oh, stop being so jumpy!" She grasped the weapon in both hands, and after some straining, snapped the blade from the handle. "There, I'm harmless now." She tossed it aside and plopped an elbow onto the armrest. "Feel better?"

"Well, if knowing Nefarious and his lackey are now the only people here who are armed is 'better'…"

"Oh, you just can't be pleased, can you?" She tucked a fist under her chin. "I know just the thing to cheer you up. Why don't you have dinner with me? I can cook you up something tasty, and we can chat about whatever you like. " She rubbed her belly with her free hand.

Ratchet eyed her with barely-veiled disdain. "If those things can be done without us having to be in the same room, then I'm all for it."

Her smile fell, but she didn't have time for much else before their conversation was interrupted by an irritating voice coming down the hallway.

"That's it, what have you done?"

They both looked over as Dr. Nefarious stormed into the room, glowering for all he was worth (Ratchet's guess would be about 15-20 bolts, after taxes), followed by a very unconcerned Lawrence.

"What have you done with it?" the supervillain asked again, his earlier shrieking replaced by a low growl.

Ratchet blinked in confusion at the scientist, who appeared as if his cold had taken a turn for the worse and who might just fall asleep right where he stood, had it not been for his apparent rage.

"What in the galaxy are you talking about?" the Lombax asked.

Nefarious stomped his foot. "You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about! Someone tampered with these files," he shook Clank's holodisc at them, and his eyes narrowed further, though from suspicion or an inability to keep them open, it couldn't be certain, "And I'm sure the only one who would _dare_ such a thing would be a squishy!"

The Lombax met the doctor's bloodshot gaze without the slightest degree of hesitation. "Well, _you're_ a squishy now. Maybe you just didn't decipher it correctly."

Nefarious snarled. "Don't you ever call me such a _vile_ name! Lawrence, where's my blaster? The Lombax needs to be taught a lesson! …Lawrence?"

"Oh, right, were you talking to me?" the robotic butler asked. "Apologies, sir, but I wasn't aware you would be annihilating anyone this evening, so I'm afraid I left your blaster back in your office."

Dr. Nefarious rounded on the squat butler, while Ratchet and Ophelia exchanged glances. "You stupid oaf, there's _always_ a chance I might annihilate someone! Now go back and get it!"

"Hey, Nefarious…" Ratchet said, hoping he wouldn't regret directing the doctor's attention back in his direction. Well, not _hoping_, as there was no doubt in his mind that he _would_ regret the decision.

The scientist spun back to face him, his fists clenched. "What is it?"

"Why don't…" the Lombax began, only to pause when Nefarious sneezed into his sleeve, "why don't you take a deep breath and tell us what happened? Better yet, why don't you tell us _what_ those files were in the first place?"

The supervillain studied the holodisc in his hand as if just now considering this very thing, before his gaze landed on Ophelia, and he replied in a low tone, as if this would prevent her from catching his words, even at such a short distance, "Not with _her_ here."

Ratchet looked at the person in question, then back at the scientist. "Why, what's wrong with _her_ being here?" Aside from the obvious, of course, but he could see no reason the supervillain would hate her any more than he hated everything else in the universe.

"It was _you_, wasn't it?" Nefarious said, thrusting an accusatory finger at her. "_You're_ the one who snuck into my office while I was away, weren't you?" He began to march towards her with meaningful steps, and when he stopped before her, he leaned in closer to better stare into her eyes, but she merely stared right back with an indifference that would make Lawrence proud. If he wasn't always so indifferent, that is.

"And why do you suspect me? I have no quarrel with you."

"I know guilt when I see it, squishy."

"I just tried to stab Ratchet with a knife. Maybe _that's_ what you're seeing." She glanced over at the Lombax, her eyebrows arched, and continued, "But, I suppose if he wants me gone, I'm gone." With that, she stood, and even though she continued to meet the scientist's gaze with a firmness that would make most fidget, this all ended when she merely grinned before walking by, and everyone in the room, it seemed, watched her go.

Once she was out of sight, and out of earshot, indicated by a nod from Lawrence, Nefarious turned a curious gaze on the Lombax.

"Uh…if you're wondering about the knife thing," Ratchet began as he scratched the back of one ear, "it's…kind of a long story. Well, not _long_, but—"

The scientist rolled his eyes in a most exaggerated manner. "I don't _care_ about that, Lombax. What matters right now is…" He paused to watch the hallway again, and though no sign of Ophelia remained, his voice lowered, nonetheless. "These files you found were not encrypted; they were code before it had been translated into something readable. Once I managed to decipher them, I found that they were, in fact, downloaded from my own brain before I was reverted back into a miserable squishy."

Ratchet's ears twitched. "Wait a minute! What?"

"But, they're incomplete because _someone_ tampered with them!"

"Hey, don't look at me! So…what files did they take?"

"I'm _getting_ to that! These 'files'," he began with a meaningful shake of the holodisc, standing tall with one hand tucked behind his back in a manner that would've been regal had anyone else done it, and if his nose hadn't been red, "contain the plans for various weapons and devices I've designed over the years. The Biobliterator, the Hypernova Defense Laser, and even my prototype for the Blinking Light of Inexplicable Nausea and Paranoia, but they're all fragmented. I've decoded every bit of it, but entire strings of code are missing. If you thought this person was innocent before, you certainly can't now, squishy. This twit was actually trying to steal my ideas!"

"There really should be copyright laws against that sort of thing, sir," Lawrence said.

"I _know_! And yet _I_ can be arrested for simply turning a few billion squishies into robots!"

The butler gave a slow shake of his head. "It hardly seems fair, does it, sir?"

"I'll say."

Ratchet could no longer deny that the deranged supervillain actually had a pretty good point for once, and he tried not to think about what his kidnapper could have possibly wanted with the contents of his dark and twisted mind. As far as he could surmise, nothing nice resided in the scientist's brain, and the Lombax rose from his seat to try his luck at slinking by the two, who had begun a rather one-sided argument over whose fault it was neither had bothered to install better safeguards into the doctor's circuitry. Though, to be honest, it wasn't much of an argument when Lawrence was simply listening with barely feigned interest. Ratchet almost succeeded in his escape, too, until Nefarious caught him in the act of sidling past him into the hallway.

"And where do you think _you're_ going?" the doctor asked, followed by a rather wet sniff, an act that wasn't complete until he rubbed his nose with a gloved hand.

"It sounds like you might've been right about this person's intentions, after all. In that case, I think Clank had better hear this."

* * *

><p>I had to cut a lot out of this chapter, either because it was rubbish or because of future plot changes. And it would've been one of my longest chapters, too. Oh well, it's all for the best.<p>

I always wondered if you could download a robot's thoughts, since they are a machine, after all. And now we know, you can. Because I made it all up.

Please review, my darlings.


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